Duality
by Duality AU
Summary: Jazz smiled reassuringly at her brother, but it hurt knowing it wasn't actually him talking to her, that it hadn't been for a while. Where did the lies end? Where did the truth even begin? Things were so hopelessly complicated now, and had been ever since the portal accident. Cover by thegingermenace123. Tags: Non-romantic Pitch Pearl, Wes Weston, Spike, AU
1. The Accident

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

The Accident

* * *

_Duality noun (pl. dualities) _

_1\. The quality or condition of being dual.  
__2\. An instance of opposition or contrast between two concepts or two aspects of something; a dualism_

* * *

Danny made his way hurriedly down the stairs. He wasn't running late; in fact, there was still over an hour to go before he had to leave for school. No, he was hoping against all odds that his parents weren't already up making breakfast. His hopes flattened when he heard activity from the kitchen, but he sighed in relief when he realized it was only Jazz making herself some Fenton Toast™.

He dashed to the kitchen and skidded to a stop in front of the fridge. He was halfway reaching for the handle to get the milk when he spotted a note stuck to the fridge's door saying that they were out. Danny grumbled incoherently while grabbing a box of toaster waffles from the freezer. He had really wanted some cereal.

He loved his parents; he really did. But that love did _not_ extend to their cooking. Ever since the incident where the potato salad went bad and took the contents of the entire fridge hostage in a major coup, he and Jazz made it a point to prepare their own meals &amp; eat out whenever possible. They'd long since learned to tune out the screams of distress coming from inside the fridge, but admittedly the periodic sounds of sirens and machine gun fire were still taking some getting used to.

All in all, a typical day at the Fenton household.

He pivoted on one heel, set his breakfast down on the counter, and pulled the toaster closer. He was about to open the box when he realized it wasn't waffles, but frozen lasagna. Frowning, he turned back to the freezer and replaced it with actual waffles. Said 'actual waffles' being a frozen steak.

Danny suppressed a groan.

He wasn't sure exactly when these… fits, for want of a better word, started happening. It'd start with a stray thought, practically a _non sequitur_. Or tripping on his own two feet, which seemed like typical teenager clumsiness, growing into his changing body.

But those stray thoughts became more and more coherent, and he found himself much more likely to trip or drop something if he was near Dash Baxter. Consequently, he caught himself saying things he _really_ didn't mean. He was also becoming intimately familiar with Dash's fist and the inside of his own locker.

It was a good thing his parents were so clueless. It was happening so much now that he barely slept with that yakking voice in his head keeping him up.

Giving up, he grabbed a plate and microwaved the steak. Jazz raised an eyebrow but ultimately said nothing. She took her seat and resumed reading her psychology book, taking another bite of her Fenton Toast™.

Danny was seated at the breakfast table, poking a fork at his steak, when Maddie walked into the kitchen clutching a large box rattling with parts and equipment. Jack, still in his wheel chair, rolled in after her. Another box was propped on his lap.

Jazz groaned and tried unsuccessfully to cover her face with her book.

"Hey kids, guess what we've just completed..." Maddie opened. There was a sing-song tone to her voice, but it was still nowhere near as jubilant as it might've been last week.

"Behold, the Fenton Specter Deflector," Jack continued. "Just clasp one of these babies on and any ghost that gets too close will be zapped with enough juice to destabilize a weak one and seriously light up a strong one."

"We just need to build a few more of these and we can forget scenarios like last weekend ever happening again," Maddie added with unhidden relief.

Danny and Jazz exchanged looks. Neither wanted to be reminded about the meeting at the DalvCo warehouse. Unfortunately, while they were certainly not looking forward to ever dealing with him again, the fact no one had seen Vlad since then wasn't exactly comforting either. He was still on the loose and would certainly be back.

Lost in his thoughts, Danny didn't realize he had touched the Spector Deflector left on the table and pulled his hand back in shock.

"Huh… that wasn't even activated, must still have a few bugs," Maddie suggested, scratching her head before setting the device on the table to begin taking it apart. Jack offered her a screwdriver before returning to the other device they'd brought with them.

The thing, though, was that it _hadn't _been a bug, and touching the belt hadn't been an accident—not that he had deliberately touched it per se…

_Did you enjoy that?_

No.

_Aw. I feel so bad. NOT. How about this?_

His left arm raised to throw his greasy knife at his parents. His pupils dilated and he slammed the arm down on the table with his other hand. Everyone looked at Danny, and he offered a meek grin in return. Jazz returned to her book, and their parents returned to their tinkering, a bit slower and distracted.

Okay, so maybe today was not as normal a day as it should have been.

Stop doing that_, _Danny thought_._

_No. Never. _

Danny sighed, accidentally out loud instead of in his head. His mom quickly turned her head to look at Danny – he could feel her eyes sweeping his face, the bags under his eyes from another night of little sleep that he could thank the little voice for.

_She'll notice,_ the voice said. _Sooner or later, she'll know I'm here, and you'll be in trouble then._

Oh yeah, like nothing would happen to you_,_ Danny thought back.

_I'll be fine. It's _you _that'll have problems._

I don't have time for this_,_ Danny thought.

His eyes darting to the clock on the wall. He had more than enough time to get to school, but none to waste talking with the annoying voice in his head instead of Sam and Tucker.

_Being late for school will be the least of your problems,_ the voice said. _Remember, I'm going to make every day a living hell for you._

Danny stood up, keeping his grip on his plate tight as he carried it to the sink. He could feel the voice gathering its energy to loosen his fingers, to make him drop it. The voice wanted the plate to fall, to shatter and send the leftover steak flying everywhere. It wanted to grab the attention of the Fenton adults who were working at the kitchen table, to make them focus on Danny instead, to make them begin seeing all the things that were wrong and had been wrong ever since the voice itself had decided to take up residence in Danny's head. It wasn't shy about these thoughts – if anything, it forced them down Danny's metaphorical throat. The voice wanted people to see something wrong with Danny.

Danny carefully set his plate down in the sink, his hands tense as he tried to override the voice's influence telling them to smash it against the counter. He darted towards the stairs, eager to grab his backpack and get out of the house before his parents could notice anything.

_You won't always be able to stop me,_ the voice taunted. _One day, you'll slip, and that'll be the end for you._

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!

_Never._

Danny grabbed his backpack and did a quick check to make sure he had everything before slipping it on. The first few days after the voice showed up, it had tried to take his homework out and hide it right after he woke up, when he was still too sleepy to stop it. Thankfully, everything he needed was in there, and Danny slipped the backpack on.

He passed through the kitchen again on his way out, but more quickly. His parents were just turning their second invention on, and Danny nearly raced out of the room as he heard it begin to say that a ghost had been located.

Danny could feel the silent smile of the voice in his head as he raced out the front door and slammed it behind him, heading for the sidewalk that led towards school.

_They'll find out. They'll figure out what's going on,_ the voice said.

"They haven't yet," Danny replied. "And I don't plan to let them find out about you, ever."

For some reason, this quieted the voice in a way that none of Danny's earlier thoughts had. Danny could feel the sadness leaching into his own emotions from wherever in his skull the voice resided.

_Please,_ the voice spoke again, this time with desperation. _Please let me say something – just once. _

"No."

_Please, you can't – _

"No."

_Please, just let me talk to them._

It wasn't the first plea the voice had made to speak with the Fenton adults.

_"_I can't,_"_ Danny said, letting some of his regret seep into his voice. "You_ know _I can't_."_

_Please, _the voice said again, eerily sad and empty. _Please just let me talk to my parents._

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

_One Month Earlier_

Jazz sat alone in the living room. In between mouthfuls of yogurt, she turned the pages of her book, Coping Tactics for Traumatized Children, with a bored expression.

She didn't notice the towering shadow approaching her until it was too late. The shadow's owner grabbed her by the arm.

Jazz looked up and screamed.

She was dragged into a cold, poorly lit room. She tugged against the strong arm pulling her in.

"No, no! LET ME GO."

A second figure closed the door behind them and locked it.

Jazz was released next to three other unwilling prisoners.

"Hey Jazz, glad you could make it," her brother said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jazz's only response was a low growl as she hunched down in her seat next to him and crossed her arms.

Their captors, her _parents_, turned to face them.

"What you're about to see is of the most top secret nature. No one outside the Fenton family can afford to grace their ears with this classified information," Jack Fenton began in a stern, almost drill sergeant tone.

"Um, then why are we here?" Sam piped in.

"Well, we figured it's just good practice for when you inherit the family name," Maddie offered with an exuberant grin.

Daniel and Sam glanced at each other briefly before shouting in stereo.

"We're not dating!"

"Sure you are!" Jack countered, "And before you know it you'll have your own house, and raise a family of ghost busting kids just like good ol' Mom and Dad."

"Our baby's growing up," Maddie said, tearing up a bit.

There was a duet of audible face palming.

"Ah well, yeah, since I'm not planning on taking Jazz's hand in marriage, I uh… I think I'll see myself out," Tucker nervously explained before sprinting for the exit.

"Honestly, you weren't so much invited as it was a 'grab two get one free' kind of a deal," Maddie explained while holding on to Tucker's collar, resulting in a comical running-nowhere-fast pose.

"But don't worry. So long as you don't speak a word of what we're going to show you four, we won't have to take you apart molecule by molecule," Jack beamed.

Tucker was thrown back to his seat, rejoining the cluster of unhappy teens.

"Behold: the Fenton Ghost Portal!"

The Portal was a metal-lined hole in one of the walls that Danny's parents had drilled without a permit. Copper wires were spread and twisted along the walls surrounding it, a dozen gauges that should monitor portal functions were set in various positions around the wall, and the protective metal plating covering the delicate circuitry was bolted down at irregular intervals. All the innards were currently blocked from view by the thick, radiation-proof, yellow and black-striped Portal door.

"Technically, the singularity is already here," Maddie commented as she made final adjustments at a nearby control panel, "but it's currently only 3 nanometers in diameter."

"But with the this baby, we can rip that hole back to its full size!"

The four unwilling hostages turned to face the octagonal steel structure set into the south wall as the Fenton adults plugged the device in. The lights in the basement flickered from the immense strain of the house's wiring channeling more amperes than most city blocks did in a week.

The teens gave each other worried expressions as Jack ran up to the portal and hit the open button. The door hissed, content where it was. It suddenly jolted open a few inches, releasing high-pressure steam in the process before slowly opening the rest of the way.

"YES YES YES!" Jack whooped while hugging Maddie, lifting her off the ground.

The steam filled the room with a thick white mist. Visibility was zilch, and breathing became forced with the sudden bump in humidity.

But piercing through the fog, a dim light pulsed red. As the fog dissipated, the light become more focused and clear…

Until it became obvious it was the error display panel next to the portal. The portal hummed low and loud, but there wasn't even an apparition lurking nearby, much less a tear in reality.

"Well. That was certainly worth my time." Jazz announced brushing herself off and collecting her book. "Now that you've had your fun: _Let us out of here!_"

"I don't understand it. It should've worked," Maddie contemplated. "The changes from the proto-portal were practically all corresponding to scale and stability. There isn't a fundamental difference."

"It's too bad Vladdy's not around to give a third opinion. He always had a knack for this sort of thing," Jack sighed.

Jazz let out an exasperated groan, then grabbed her parents by the collars and dragged them up the stairs all the while reprimanding them for the utter waste of time and poor manners in dragging her there.

Danny hung back as his friends walked towards the portal, taking in every inch of the thing. Sam, however, quickly grew bored.

Tucker glanced at the moaning portal, the overhead lights still flickering ominously, and shuddered.

Seeing this, Sam grinned an evil, twisted grin that would make the Grinch himself cringe.

"I bet you twenty bucks you're too chicken to touch the back panel."

"What? Wait! No! I'm not dumb enough to go in there!" Tucker countered, not bothering to hide his nervousness.

"Come on, Tuck. It's just a steel door. It's not like it even works," Danny said, smirking.

"Then why don't _you_ do it, if you're so sure?" Tucker pointed his thumb over his shoulder back at the portal before crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Me? Why should I?" Danny countered.

Now it was Sam's turn to look confused.

"Haven't you ever thought about all the cool stuff that could be on the other side of the portal? I mean, if your parents are right, there's a whole other world, and you can get there from your basement. Aren't you even a little bit curious?" she asked.

"I am!" Danny said. "It's just not safe."

"But, didn't your parents go in there, though?" Tucker asked. "Like, someone had to put that thing together, and I doubt they could do that from outside."

"Okay, you're right. But they were wearing their jumpsuits – I think they're Hazmat or something, protective lab gear. That's probably why it was okay for them to go in."

Sam began walking away from Danny, off to a corner of the lab. She opened a door to one of the cabinets lining the walls.

"Sam, what are you doing? My parents aren't going to be happy if you—"

Sam shut the door, and turned around with a smile on her face.

And a jumpsuit in her hands.

Danny groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"I forgot about that thing," he muttered.

"Dude, your parents made you a jumpsuit?" Tucker asked. Danny sighed.

"Yeah," he admitted, "earlier this year. I don't know why they thought I would wear it."

"C'mon, Danny. If you wear this, you could check out the Portal. Just think of what you could discover in there!"

"Sam, the portal doesn't work."

"So there's no harm in trying, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Danny admitted with a small smile. He took the jumpsuit from Sam. "But I better be getting that twenty bucks for this."

Like all the jumpsuits the Fentons had, it had black accents around the neck, along with black gloves and boots, and a black belt. Danny had managed to persuade his dad not to get the jumpsuit in the bright orange that the older man preferred, and it was instead a plain white. It seemed that Jack hadn't been able to resist putting his own face on it, though, and Danny quickly pulled it off – Sam wasn't above using embarrassing photos of him as blackmail, and he did _not_ want to be in the yearbook wearing his dad's face on his chest. Thank God his dad hadn't gotten it printed onto the material, and had instead used a sticker.

Danny stepped into the jumpsuit and pulled it up over his normal clothes, pressing his jeans and shirt uncomfortably close to his body. He zipped up the front, surprised that once he'd finished, the zipper had almost disappeared.

"Well," he said, turning to Sam and Tucker. "Here goes nothing."

And he stepped into the portal.

For the first two steps, he was very cautious, carefully positioning his feet so as not to interfere with the wiring and moving very slowly. But nothing bad happened. He turned to look back at the mouth of the Portal, and his friends grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Sam had pulled out her cell phone, and she was taking pictures of him – he could hear the camera noise as he turned and walked farther into the portal.

Everything was going fine until a loose wire caught Danny's ankle. Out of pure instinct, he reached out to stop himself from falling, and his hand made contact with the wall of the portal. Something underneath his fingers gave way…

He felt nothing.

In another universe, Danny Fenton might have had his DNA rewritten, and gained super powers from this sequence of events. In another universe, he might have struggled to keep his secret identity from his friends and enemies. He might have tried and failed to keep his grades up and his home town safe. He might have grown up far too fast. He might have learned things he never would have otherwise. He might have lost things too precious to give up and watched his dreams slip from between his fingers.

But Danny Fenton would not do or experience these things.

Danny Fenton did not come to regret or second guess this fateful event.

In fact, he never had the chance to realize something went wrong.

Because Danny Fenton died the instant 200,000 volts coursed through his heart.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

_Ghost Zone_

Greens on reds. FLASH. Purples on yellows. FLASH. Blacks on whites. FLASH. They twirled, they bent, they were angular, they were smooth. All at once. And not at all.

The lights were painful to look at, but hypnotic and exciting all the same.

"Daniel! Are you listening to me?" Danny turned and looked at his father.

"Yes sir," he said with a tone utterly devoid of emotion.

"Well, what did I say?"

"Don't go to the stormy areas of the Ghost Zone. You've always told me that, it's nothing new." Danny turned his gaze back out the window, out to the storm off in the distance. It wasn't like the storm made him excited or anything, it simply peaked his interest. It was very rare that anything made him excited.

His father looked at him sternly, red eyes narrowing, however the overall look in the expression was simply of an irritated, but still caring, fatherly concern for him. He understood his son's interest in the storm. He also understood that the interest would keep him at the window, at least, to keep watching it.

"I mean it. Please just heed my warning, ok? I have to go and make sure the storm doesn't make anyone think that this is a good opportunity to attack."

"Sure, Dad," Danny said, twisting his arm at an angle impossible for a human arm, and waved goodbye. He heard his father sigh with a hint of amusement, and then leave the room. It wasn't until Danny watched the faint white form of his father fly off in the opposite direction of the storm that he let a smile crack on his face. The young phantom floated away from the window, and after setting up a decoy in his bedroom, promptly shot out the door and towards the storm of colors.

Humans are particularly vain creatures. Often, when they die, their form resembles what they looked like in life, or at least a corruption or distortion of that.

The phantom quizzically looking at the eye of the storm had never even breathed using his own lungs, never mind lived long enough to look himself in a mirror, so his form was about as nondescript as ghosts got: a rounded head with no neck connected to a wispy tail and two optional boneless arms with a many or as few fingers as he ever felt he needed.

Without warning, the psychedelic storm collapsed in on itself, and all was calm. It was as if the light show had never occurred.

The ghost boy zipped around to and fro, seeking out where the strange storm went.

He couldn't know that a dimension away, a raven-haired boy was about to hit the 'on' button on his parents' invention. He couldn't have known it would rip a permanent hole in both realities.

He couldn't know that he was occupying the same space the singularity would re-form in.

In a fraction of a second, a huge 2-dimensional hole expanded, overlapping with the 3-dimensional form of the ghost child.

He screamed, but no noise escaped him, for either side of him was simultaneously sucked into the ominous hole in reality.

Everything went black.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

His cheek burned and a loud noise jolted him up.

"Sam! SAM! He's up! You can st-"

An open palm converted into a fist and struck his face. The ghost child fell over.

"-op…"

Everything went black.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

A steady stream of cold water erupted on his face. He gargled and flailed around like a livid wet noodle.

The jets of water ceased, but his vision was obstructed by black strands of… something.

He parted the strands with a hand and looked around with hazy vision. A white girl with black hair turned off the shower head, while a black boy sat on the closed lid of the toilet, fixated on his PDA.

The colors were all wrong… So muted and gentle and shiny. Nothing like back home in the ghost zone.

… Not like the ghost zone.

He _wasn't_ in the ghost zone.

_This wasn't the ghost zone._

The girl looked relieved and said something, but he paid it no mind.

If he wasn't in the ghost zone then he had to be in the land of the living…

… Did obsessions have ranges? … He _needed_ to get out of here… He couldn't afford to find out.

He got up and tried to bolt out of the small room with every intent of flying through the walls intangibly.

Instead, he collided with the door and fell over flat. The back of his head broke his fall, by slamming it into the cold hard floor tiles.

Everything went black.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he felt something cold and hard on his head. The two teens from earlier were hovering over him.

"Danny," the black boy asked, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

The ghost child paused. How did that boy know his name? He turned to face the hand. "Two."

"Phew… he's alright," the boy wiped sweat off his brow.

"You gave us quite the scare," the girl chimed in.

The ghost called Danny tried to get up, but his entire being was assaulted by pain.

… Pain.

It hurt.

Pain… hurt.

It was so… foreign and detestable. What a _strange_ sensation.

He wondered how difficult it was to experience more pain, and if there was any chance he could experience more any time soon.

"Where am I?" Danny asked.

The two teens gave each other a concerned look.

"We're in your room," the girl offered.

"My… room?" the ghost child looked around. It was a mess. There was clothes all over the floor, and… he focused on one of the shelves. He'd swear he'd never seen one of those things before… and yet he knew… _somehow_… it was a model of the Apollo XIII rocket.

It looked… _reaaaaaally_ boring. Why wasn't it more colorful? Maybe hot magenta with blue flames. Or maybe it'd look better if it had wheels. Like… the wooden ones from a stage coach of the old west.

There was an unfamiliar familiarity of it all, like the opposite of déjà vu.

The girl clasped his hand. It felt warm and solid.

"Danny, do you remember who we are?"

He furrowed his brow as more unfamiliar knowledge drifted to the surface.

"You're… Sam."

"Yes, that's right." Sam seemed pleased with this response.

"And me?" the boy asked.

"You're…"

"Yes?"

"… You're…"

"Yes?"

"Maddie?"

There was a beat of silence, followed by the loudest face palm in the history of face palming.

"Dude! I'm TUCKER. T.U.C.K.E.R. TU-CKER. Your best friend since forever!" the boy waved his hands around for emphasis. "How could you possibly confuse me for your mom!?"

"Heh, don't be silly. **I don't have a mom**."

There was an awkward pause. The ghost boy felt he said something wrong. He played with the ice pack, and got distracted by how it felt when he applied it to his eyes and removed it.

"Sam, I'm going to call 911. Danny's probably got brain damage."

"No-no-no-no-no-no!" Sam slapped the phone out of the boy's hand.

"Hey!"

"If we take him to the hospital they'll ask how he got hurt. We'll get blamed!"

"But you _did_ encourage Danny to go into his parents' invention!" Tucker countered while shaking his hand in mild discomfort.

"Look, maybe he'll get over it." Sam pleaded.

"He's been electrocuted, punched in the face, and had a head-on collision with a door!" Tucker shouted.

"Actually, it was the floor that hurt more now that I think about it…" the ghost boy offered rubbing the back of his head. There was a lump that he was fairly sure wasn't there earlier.

"Hey! I didn't mean to punch him! I was trying to slap him awake!" Sam yelled.

"Should I be taking notes on all this?" the ghost boy asked meekly.

"Dude! A slap doesn't involve your knuckles all balled up!" Tucker leaned in, teeth bared.

"You startled me!" Sam counter-leaned in until their foreheads were practically touching.

Sick of being ignored, the ghost boy slipped between them, put his palms on both of their faces, and pushed them aside.

"If it's all the same to you guys, I think I'd like to skip a trip to the hospital, thank you very much. Now I'm feeling tired, so g'bye!"

He shooed the protesting teens out the door, which he immediately closed and locked.

"I'm sorry Danny!" Sam offered through the door.

"La-la-la-la I can't hear you!"

"Dude, we'll see you tomorrow," Tucker called out after.

There was a pause before he heard the pair of footsteps and a longer pause before he heard them exit the house.

The ghost child flopped backwards onto his bed. … His bed. It was familiar and not familiar. That was stressful.

Stress…

Another weird sensation.

The ghost boy hoped the two would be back early. It was so stressful with them around. It was kinda cool.

"Whelp. Might as well get a feel for where I am."

He tried to float.

Nothing happened.

"Huh."

For the first time he looked at himself. Really looked. Instead of an amorphous blob, he had pinkish skin, and solid shape. There was a vague disconnected concern that there should be noises coming from his chest that weren't there.

Was he possessing this body? He tried to release it. But every time he did, nothing happened except feeling a sensation not unlike stretching a rubber band—tension, something pulling against him, keeping him bound to this body.

So he was stranded, in this strange world, trapped in this fleshy meat bag, with half-memories that didn't belong to him.

He thought about having an existential crisis, but it seemed like it would be too hard to pull off just right. But… maybe if he… nah, there were more important things to deal with.

He got off the bed and looked inside the closet. He grinned an evil grin when he found what he was looking for.

A model paint set.

There was magenta in it.

He grabbed the Apollo XIII and quickly got to work.

* * *

– •••• • / ––• •••• ––– ••• – / ––•• ––– –• • •––––• ••• / –– •• ––• •••• – •• • ••• – / •••• •– ••• / –••• • • –• / •••• •• •–• • –•• / – ––– / ••• • • –•– / – •••• • / ––• •••• ––– ••• – / –•–• •••• •• •–•• –••

* * *

We don't own Danny Phantom... if we did, well... it might've ended up like this.

Duality is a collaborative work between Ava Taggart, Souzou, and Wooster. Ava proposed the question on Tumblr 'What would Danny Phantom be like if he was born a ghost?'... and from there a couple of complete strangers joined in and we spent months outlining this epic-length reboot of the Danny Phantom saga... and the natural response to having a deeply thought-out AU was to turn it into a story. We hope you enjoy it!

Special shout out to Lynse, who's provided some very useful feedback and is a wealth of useful knowledge and trivia on the series. (Especially since a certain writer *glares at Wooster* only saw half of Season 1 before contributing 20K words) Whoopsie! But seriously, she's great and if you haven't read her stuff, go do it. Mirrored (Danny Phantom + Jake Long) and Intentions (Merlin) are great places to start.

Part 1 is queued up. Part 2 is being written. Updates are currently planned to be every other Friday. (We'll see how long that lasts, but there's enough currently drafted to get us to June.)

However, since this chapter ended on a somewhat ho-hum note, Chapter 2 will be posted next Friday, instead of two weeks from today. It's a lot more interesting and should serve as better gauge of the story telling.


	2. Tryouts

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

Tryouts

* * *

_It was a half hour before the bus would arrive and Danny hadn't left his room. When I went to wake him I discovered he had radically redecorated, to put it mildly. Danny himself was asleep on the floor in front of a half-painted model of the international space station streaked with neon colors; similarly redesigned models littered the floor around him. Many of them had mismatching parts attached to them that had once belonged to toys from our childhood._

_I'm going to have to consult the library for what such radical and abrupt… artistic (for want of a better word) expressions could be indicative of. It certainly is out of character for my little brother. Unfortunately I'll have to question him later. School comes first for both of us, and I have a major Spanish test tomorrow._

_-Excerpt from Jazz's Journal_

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The school bus's door opened and Jazz led her sleep-deprived brother through it. Sam and Tucker waved Danny over and he sat with them as Jazz continued walking farther back into the bus.

"Not to state the obvious or anything, but you look terrible. Did you sleep at all?" Sam asked in-between mouthfuls of the apple she was eating.

"More importantly, do you remember anything?" Tucker interrupted.

"Sleep?" Danny tested the sound of the word. "I must've. It was dark, and next thing I knew it was light and Jazz was rushing me out the door."

As for remembering anything… that was a much more complicated question. If they thought he was their friend, it didn't seem to be a good idea to clue them in that he was replaced. He certainly remembered his life up to this point, as a ghost that is.

"As for memories… not really." It wasn't a _complete_ lie.

A few rows away, Jazz stopped reading her book.

Sam gave a dejected sigh as Tucker reached and searched through Danny's knapsack. He found Danny's schedule and circled a few classes. "I have these classes with Danny. Which do you have?" Tucker handed the pen and paper to Sam. She frowned and checked a bunch. Most, but not all, overlapped with Tucker. Two periods, however, involved neither of the duo. Fortunately, they were both late in the day. Sam handed the paper back to Tucker.

"I guess we'll have to play this by ear then. Hopefully he can swing it by then." Tucker noting the last periods.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH!"

The three teens were gathered around their lockers, getting their books, when the parade of jocks and their entourage cleared a path down the hallway. Or at least, Sam and Tucker were getting their books; Danny, having had _forgotten_ his locker combination, merely leaned on an adjacent one, arms crossed, loitering.

"What's with the procession?" Danny asked, his interest for the first time since he was kidnapped by the two teens.

Sam slammed her locker, her free arm clutching a purple notebook.

"Just ignore it, Danny. It's just football junkies _overjoyed_ that their star player is going for tryouts this afternoon."

"Yeah, as if that was a surprise. The punk lives and breathes sports." Tucker added.

The parade stopped abruptly. Dozens of eyes turned to face Tucker. A gang of bulky jocks split off from the crowd and surrounded Foley and company.

Dash Baxter leaned over Tucker and slammed his fist into the locker to the immediate right of his head, leaving a small yet impressive crater.

"_What_… did you call me?" Dash asked, baring his teeth.

"Wait-what who me?" Tucker said, sweat dripping down his face. "I uh, I said, 'the _hunk _lives and breathes sports.' 'Hunk!' You're a very hunky guy Dash."

Danny raised a confused eyebrow, "Really? Cause I could've sworn I heard you say pun-"

Sam slapped her palm over his mouth.

"Not. _Helping_," Sam muttered between gritted teeth.

Fortunately, or perhaps not so, Dash and his goons didn't hear Sam's exchange and the hallway burst into laughter.

"Tsh, whatever _Foley. _See ya at the _loser_ table._" _And with a nasally laugh the crowd moved on to their homeroom.

Danny removed Sam's palm from his face.

"Man… what's his problem?" He pointed his thumb back over his head to where Dash had meandered.

"Are you alright, Tucker?" Sam asked, completely ignoring Danny's question.

"Oh no, I'm _fiiiiiiine_, Sam. It's only the beginning of the school year and I'm already the laughingstock of the school." Tucker slammed his locker shut with a satisfying BANG. "I'll see you guys later." And with that, he left them.

Danny tried to break the awkward silence that followed.

"So what does it take to try out for football?"

Sam shot him an evil glare and marched off to homeroom.

Danny shrugged and followed after her.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

" '…_But every time there have been conquests there have been conquerors; every time there has been a revolution in any state there have been great men,' says history. And, indeed, human reason replies: every time conquerors appear there have been wars, but this does not prove that the conquerors caused the wars and that it is possible to find the laws of a war in the personal activity of a single man." _

Danny was lying limp on his desk with a vaguely dazed expression. Or at least he _had been_ until Sam kicked his seat. Apparently he was supposed to look attentive or something. Why was he even playing along with this in the first place?

"_Whenever I look at my watch and its hands point to ten, I hear the bells of the neighboring church; but because the bells begin to ring when the hands of the clock reach ten, I have no right to assume that the movement of the bells is caused by the position of the hands of the watch."_

The '_over'_weight bald man continued to quote from the '_over'_sized book. Danny was just plain _**over**_ it. The teacher called it "War and Peace". Danny was fairly sure it was a fitting title. If you failed to sap the spirit out of someone by reading it, you could easily bludgeon someone to death with the thick and heavy tome. He who held that book could easily hold power over creating and ending both wars and times of peace. That book must never fall into the wrong hands…

…It most certainly was in the wrong ones now.

Danny turned and faced the surrounding classmates. Some were studiously taking notes, but most were displaying various stages of acute brain radiation sickness. He _probably_ couldn't 'die' from this… but why take the chance? Besides, as fun as this world was, _*cough*not*cough*_, Dad was probably going to punish him for being gone so long, and without notice. That's even assuming he could get back in time. He might as well get started on finding a way home.

He raised his hand.

"Mr. Lancer. May I be excused? I need to go."

"I suppose, Mr. Fenton," Lancer groaned. "But make it snappy."

Tucker's desk was kicked by a black left army boot.

"Hey!" Tucker started and turned to face Sam who was silently gesturing for him to follow with her head.

"Oh uh… actually. I need to go too." Tucker added to Mr. Lancer.

With a roll of the eyes, Mr. Lancer wrote out a pair of hall passes and gave them to the two teens.

"Just don't dally." He added as the pair ran out the door.

It was actually a good thing Tucker decided to tail Danny. He was briskly making his way, not to the bathrooms, but the exit.

"Yo! Dude, what do you think you're doing?" Tucker grabbed Danny by the arm as he was about to turn the door knob.

Danny turned to Tucker, confused.

"I said I had to go, and I'm going away? I don't see how this is misleading."

"Danny, if you leave now, there's no way you won't get detention. Do you really want to spend the rest of the afternoon with Mrs. Walker?"

Time didn't actually stop. But Danny became as still as if it did.

"Hey dude, are you alright?"

After about 20 seconds, Tucker snapped his fingers in front of Danny's eyes trying to get some sort of a reaction.

"… There's a _Mrs. _Walker?" Danny remained perfectly motionless.

"Well, yeah, she's the one who usually stays after and manages the school detention. And-"

But Tucker was speaking to nothing but air. He did a double take and managed to see Danny charging around the corner back down the hallway they came from.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

As usual, the library was mostly deserted, as most students opted to spend their study halls in the cafeteria socializing. Jazz sat at one of the group study tables with her Spanish book open and her notes out in neat stacks.

Her mind was on anything but the upcoming Spanish test, though.

"Maybe it's just a phase he's going through? But he spent weeks on some of those space ships."

To her right, Spike, a gangly punk with Neanderthal posture, briefly glanced in her direction and rolled his eyes before returning to his textbook.

"But then why would Danny's friends be grilling him about memory lapses? Is it even connected?"

It was a bad habit, but she caught herself chewing on her pen again. Her mouth dropped open and her pen clattered to the table and rolled onto the floor when an idea dawned on her.

"Oh my god… has Danny been _drinking?"_

As if on cue, through the gridlocked glass windows that connected one wall of the library with the hallway, her little brother charged down the hallway with a look of hysterical terror plastered on his face as he broke the school's 'no running in the halls' rule and perhaps the school's 100-yard dash record as well.

"Heh, he's _at least_ on speed," Spike japed.

The remark earned the rebellious boy an elbow to the gut before Jazz got up and headed to the medical reference section.

With the study table deserted, Spike looked left and right to make sure no one was looking before he started copying Jazz's notes.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Danny forcefully opened the door to the English classroom, frantically tripped over backpacks, desks, and a couple of students and _literally _dove into his desk. When he resurfaced he clutched his seat tight with his fists. With wide eyes and dilated pupils, he gave his undivided attention to Mr. Lancer, who was staring, mouth agape, at the ragged reappearance of his pupil.

After a continued awkward pause, Lancer continued the lesson, on which Danny focused as hard as he could.

Later, Sam would ask Tucker why Danny had come running into the room like the demons of Hell were grabbing at his heels. Tucker was as confused as Sam was. After all, Mrs. Walker was just as sweet old lady—it's not like she was a penitentiary warden or something.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH!"

The jock in question had planted one foot on the lunch table and struck a pose—not unlike a marble statue of some mighty hunter proudly climbing atop his mark.

It made Sam want to puke. "Can you believe this? If his ego gets any more inflated we're going to have another Hindenburg disaster on our hands."

Danny rolled his eyes and lifted his lunch bag onto the table and pulled out the steak sandwich _his_ sister handed him this morning.

"Hey Kwan! Go long!" Dash snagged Tucker's red beret off his head as he was returning from the lunch line and tossed it, as if it were a football, to his equally burly friend.

"Hey, give that back!" Tucker set his lunch down and ran to Kwan.

With his free hand, Kwan held Tucker back effortlessly, and spying another set of open hands in the air tossed the hat in that direction.

This continued for a dozen or so more tosses until, while chasing the hat, Tucker collided with a large, gruff man and fell to the floor.

The behemoth leaned over.

"This yours, son?" he asked. The man's grave and gravelly voice silenced the cafeteria.

"Uh, yes sir," Tucker replied, voice so high and quiet it was a wonder the man heard him. Tucker timidly took his hat and made his way back to the table where Sam and Danny were already seated. He silently glared at the jocks as he ate his lunch.

"Alright. Listen up!" the man shouted from the center of the cafeteria. "I am Coach Huddle. As you may already know, football tryouts are this afternoon after class."

A loud whoop of approval came from the jocks' table.

"If you plan on making the team, be sure you passed your physical. If you don't have one, _go get one_. The school nurse will be offering them for you _stragglers_ during the day. Study Hall supervisors will allow you to leave to take an exam, but don't bother thinking about skipping class to get one. You idiots should've thought of that _last_ **week**. Sign up here if you're interested." He slammed a clipboard with a pen tied to it on the condiments table. "That is all."

And with that, Coach Huddle marched out of the cafeteria.

The cafeteria devolved to its normal levels of idle chatter as various students walked up the sign-up clipboard. A couple of teens negotiated with the supervisor to go to the nurse's office even though it wasn't technically a study hall.

Danny watched with pointed interest as he made to take a bite out of the sandwich _his parents _made when it _mooed_ at him. He jumped back at the non-standard sound and dropped the steak sandwich on the table. Squinting, he cautiously focused his eyes onto the table, and timidly poked the meal with the fork. It snorted indignantly and a jet of steam huffed from the meat.

Danny immediately lost his appetite.

"Uh, I think I'll go and try to sign up," he explained as he got up from the table and got in line.

"Oh ho ho? Is Fentina gonna try out for football?" Dash mocked from his nearby seat.

Tucker took a violent bite from his burger, but said nothing as he watched.

"Well, yeah. It sounds like it might be fun to try," Danny offered with a shrug.

"Hey, didn't you hear? Football is a man's sport. Get your girly figure and dainty fingers away from that clipboard."

There wasn't any build up. There was no warning. One moment Sam was seated, having some celery and ranch dressing, the next she was standing behind Dash's hunched-over body with her out stretched army boot clad foot hovering where Dash's crown jewels had been the moment before the boot made its sudden appearance.

"Give me the pen."

"What?" Danny asked dumbfounded.

"Give. Me. The. Pen," Sam ordered.

Danny didn't get the chance to unfold his fingers. Sam didn't wait and snatched it out of his hand and scribbled her name on the clipboard. She then turned to the football player huddled over in pain.

"Number 1," she said as she leaned over and pulled Dash's head up by the hair so it was pointed at her. (An interesting accomplishment in and of itself considering how short his hair was.) "I really resent you using femininity as a put down." She pulled a little harder and Dash cringed.

"Number 2, there is no _boy's sport_. Anyone physically fit can sign up." She twisted a little. "The only reason there isn't a girl's league is because not enough girls sign up. Therefore, it's _illegal_ to bar participation." She let go and went back to her table.

"See you on the field… _teammate_," she hissed.

Sam sat back down, feeling a little more satisfied, when something caught her attention.

"Hey, what happened to my turf-wich?"

Danny, who had now signed himself up, seated himself and looked back at Sam's tray. Sam's grass on bread had been _mowed_. In an unrelated matter, Danny's _quarter-_pound steak sandwich had been mysteriously replaced with a _half-_pound steak sandwich.

_Nope nope nope nope._

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The rest of the school day was mostly uneventful. Sam and Danny attempted to recruit Tucker onto the team—Sam because she wanted another ally on the team, Danny because he thought it'd be fun for Tucker to join. But Tucker adamantly refused. Not only did he lack a physical, but he was damned if he was going to do anything willfully associated with Dash Baxter. Danny did go to the nurse for a physical, but she turned him away since "he'd" already had one last week.

Tryouts were a bit of a SNAFU with the freshmen, as was the case every year. This year, most of the attention was on Sam. The fellow tryouts didn't hesitate to gawk at her failures, and to point out her lack of technique. She never dignified the jeering with a response.

It would only make the situation worse if she did.

To her relief, Huddle did dismiss several of the would-be jocks for poor sportsmanship. But that only lead to the football players jeering her when the coach's back was turned.

It made her blood boil.

Otherwise, tryouts continued as normal. Or at least, it _would've_ been a relatively normal football tryout… had there not been an uninvited guest.

"Hey Fenturd," Dash yelled with his ever-whiny voice, "Go long!" With a devilish sneer, Dash spun around, once, twice, thrice, and threw the football in non-regulation discus style. The ball shot from his hand with such force that the ball was compressed by the g-forces. When the ball hit the apex of the toss, it caught fire before making reentry.

"I got it! I got it!" Danny shouted while running after the ball's shadow. In the glare of the sun, he jumped, arms reaching out as he did, and caught the smoking projectile. He tumbled into a somersault, clutching his prize to his chest, and stood upright with dirt, dust, and grass stains littered across his clothes.

The football team was speechless, though whether from the act of catching/surviving Dash's signature kamikaze toss or dumbfounded at Danny's utterly unnecessary and embarrassing victory dance was not especially clear. Coach Huddle spat some profanity as he shoved Dash out of his way while running to the rookie now in the midst of a terrible moon walk.

"Oh yeah, uh-huh," Danny sang to himself.

Abruptly, a fireball-football impaled itself in the ground mere inches from where Danny was dancing. The now-smoldering football startled Danny as he fumbled his catch.

Dash was confused… if what almost hit Danny was his kamikaze ball, then what had Danny ended up catching?

By that point, Coach Huddle snagged what Danny had caught, and preformed a very unexpected sweeping kick to Fenton, gracelessly introducing his face to the turf.

Dash Baxter squinted.

"Is that a… a rocket?"

"EVERYONE DOWN AND GIVE ME ONE!" the booming voice of Coach Huddle commanded. The team looked at him incredulously. "I SAID NOW!" he bellowed, and blew his whistle deafeningly.

He didn't bother to ensure the athletes were following through; he turned and threw the missile at—and over—the goal post. The coach abruptly dove down and shielded Danny's body with his own.

The missile never managed to touch ground; it exploded about 2 yards above it. Dirt and debris shot outward, forming a sizable crater in the ground. The goal post then toppled over with a horrid screech.

Dust burned in Dash's lungs and he coughed involuntarily from his spot on the ground.

A green, flaming light broke though the brown cloud of dust. As the dust settled, the flame revealed itself to be a mohawk from a Terminator-like robot.

"I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's mightiest hunter," the android boomed in introduction. "I am here for the ghost child."

"Who the robocop are you?" Dash questioned redundantly.

The android's green eyes narrowed at Dash, but the robot ultimately ignored him.

"Where is the ghost child?" he repeated.

Skulker interrupted the ensuing silence by hefting Kwan into the air.

"Where is he? I know he's in the area!" He shoved the face of his scanner displaying a map into the boy's nose. It blinked an unhelpful radius encompassing the entire school.

Kwan trembled in fear. He wrapped his hands around the arm Skulker was clutching his shirt with and using to hold him airborne in a weak attempt to prevent from choking.

"I-I dunno dude."

The interrogation was interrupted by the sound of an engine starting up. It was soon followed by something hard and fast striking Skulker square in the back. The metallic hunter dropped Kwan in surprise, and Kwan wasted no time in scrambling off on all fours and rejoining the rest of his team.

Skulker gave a low growl and turned to face the source of the projectile, and was rewarded with a second baseball to the face. Coach Huddle was standing behind the baseball team's rickety old pitching machine with a large crate of baseballs. Fenton was standing behind him, stunned, motionless.

"Baxter!" the coach shouted.

"Yes sir!" Dash replied.

"I'm giving you a field promotion to private. Get everyone to the gym safely. That's an order." While not taking his eyes off Skulker, he took his whistle off and threw it to Dash. Coach Huddle then dumped the entire crate of baseballs into the pitching machine and fired an unrelenting barrage that filled the air with the metal impacting sounds of baseballs hitting their mark.

Suddenly the gravity of the situation weighed on Dash. This wasn't a football drill. This was real. Before he realized what he was doing, he sucked air in and gave a piercing blow into the whistle.

"Everyone to the gym!" Dash shouted. With a second blow, the team made a break for the large brick building.

Dash turned to take a last glance at his coach before running himself when he noticed Fenton was still standing on the field in a trance.

"Come on, Fenturd. Let's GO!" Dash grabbed Danny's limp arm and sprinted for the gym. Danny was dragged for a bit before partially coming to his senses and running with Dash on his own.

They were the last to make it in. Kwan and another teammate, a scrawny red head, shut the double doors behind them. The normally rowdy team was uncharacteristically quiet. The silence was only broken by the distant, unrelenting gatling of the ball launcher.

The noises stopped seconds later, followed by the sound of metal smashing to bits. A couple of explosions soon broke the immediate silence.

Several sets of young eyes peered out the gym door. Smoke and a crater stood in place of the football coach and his makeshift machine gun. The android spat a baseball out of his mouth, pounded his scanner a few times, then turned and marched toward the gym. They quickly closed the door again.

Sam put her cellphone away.

"I just called the police," she said.

"We're saved!" Kwan whooped.

But Sam shook her head.

"When I told them we were being attacked by the Terminator, they told me to cut it with the prank calls and hung up."

"Shit, what do we do?" Kwan asked, turning to Dash for guidance. He was the team captain, after all; he was supposed to know what to do.

The gym doors flew off their hinges with enough concussive force that they struck the wall on the opposite side of the gym. A black army boot was sticking into the room. Skulker put the kicking foot back down on the ground and strutted in.

"Ready or not, here I come."

"Run," Dash squeaked.

The mass of teens scrambled for the doors leading into the school.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Danny didn't like this new sensation. Sure, several things today had gone less than smoothly, but they were easy enough to laugh at, or got lost in the euphoria of trying something new. This was different. _Why_ he wasn't entirely sure. But it was really unlike anything he could compare.

His (future?) teammates were all crying and screaming as they scattered, randomly running down different hallways. Sam was leading him along, clutching his right hand as she and three other jocks ran down the science wing. One of them, the scrawny red head, turned into the Biology lab, and Sam, with Danny in tow, ran in after him.

The jock slid the teacher's desk to barricade the door while Sam resumed making phone calls.

Danny just stood there, useless.

The terror that filled the room infected him; made him feel small, vulnerable, _mortal._ He couldn't stop it. He hated it and that _confused_ him.

It's not like these activities were unfamiliar to him. Ghosts were territorial creatures, sentient or not. Some were just more aggressive than others. He'd even participated in a raid on more than one occasion, against his father's wishes (and on both the giving and receiving ends, if he were to be honest). But when you were effectively immortal (or rather post-mortal), there wasn't much that you can't ultimately shake off.

But more than the horrific sensations he was feeling himself, worse were the similar vibes he was getting off his classmates. The freckled jock, whose name he'd never learned, had finished barricading the door with whatever he could find and was now sitting on the ground sobbing quietly into his knees. Sam was doing a bit better: she was pacing while talking on her phone. Her voice was coherent and smooth talking to whoever was on the other end of the line, but her jumpy eyes and incessant walking betrayed her true feelings.

She hung up and wiped sweat off her brow that Danny hadn't even realized was there.

"I was able to get ahold of your parents, Danny. They'll be here shortly," Sam reassured her fellow captives.

"At least _someone_ believed me," she grumbled under her breath while rolling her eyes.

The lanky jock paused his bawling and wiped his nose.

"Oh great. Now I get to choose how I die: freaky Terminator or freaky Fentons," he said.

Somehow, Danny got the impression that telling them Skulker was after _him_ probably wasn't going to win him any points, so he said nothing while Sam chewed out the jock on his behalf.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The electronic whine of the weapon charging was the only warning Kwan had before he was snared in an ethereally-glowing net. His assailant pressed a button and an electric current surged through the net. Smoke and ozone rose from his now-unconscious form.

Skulker experimentally kicked Kwan before pulling out his scanner and surveying him at point blank.

"MATCH NOT FOUND", the monotonous voice of the scanner offered.

Skulker growled, hefted the net over his back, and lugged it back into the cafeteria where the rest of his captured quarry lay. He threw Kwan unceremoniously onto the heap of other football players.

There were 21 life-forms on the school ground when he originally opened fire on the football field. 12 were now secured in the cafeteria. 4 had, in the ensuing panic, managed to slip out of the school, and by extension, the range of his scanner.

(It was admittedly sloppy work that he'd let that happen. He'd never tolerate that of himself in a real hunt.)

It was a loss, but not a true one. His prey was still on the school grounds, at least if this faulty scanner were to be trusted any.

That left 5 more whelps to round up.

He growled as he marched back on the prowl. "I have no idea how you roped me into this, Plasmius."

In truth, such a 'hunt' was beneath him. Using his vast skills and experience to chase down _daddy's little boy_ was an insult. But the details of the mark had intrigued him. The earlier bounty hunters had failed to track him down. A kidnapping, or perhaps an assassination attempt? Plasmius certainly had no shortage of enemies (or allies for that matter) whom Skulker wouldn't put it past to try to pull off.

His lips drooled at the suggestion of an adept opponent to overtake. Beating the other bounty hunters to the prize would simply be icing on his bloody cake. Too bad this hunt was turning more into rounding up stray cattle.

He kicked down a door into a classroom and netted another panicked teenager and zapped him unconscious. 4 more to go.

"MATCH NOT FOUND."

"Grrrr. WHERE IS HE?!" he yelled at the unconscious boy.

Grumbling at the futility of interrogating the unconscious, he tossed the teen over his shoulder and marched it back to the cafeteria. He threw it in with the rest and marched off to the science wing.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

At least an hour had passed since they first locked themselves in the biology lab. The three teens sat on the floor next to each other by the cabinets in relative silence. The students had heard the whine of electricity and screams of pain through the lab's paper thin walls many times now. It added a new dimension of terror to their current situation, knowing that by now most of the others had probably been picked off.

Lost to their morbid reverie, they were caught by surpise when the massive shape tried the door handle. It opened outward, the _opposite_ direction of where the barricade would've been useful.

Danny and Sam shared a glare at the redheaded, who shrugged.

"How was I supposed to know the door was a pull, not a push?"

Before she knew what she was doing, Sam grabbed the podium, knocking the teacher's notes and text book to the floor, and swung it at Skulker.

He caught it mid-swing. Then, for effect, he bent it into a ring and handed it back to her.

"Boo," he said humorlessly.

Sam giggled nervously and unconvincingly. She dove under his legs and made a run for it.

"Bwahaha!" Skulker bellowed. "Good try…" He raised his net gun and the high-pitched whine issued its warning as he aimed at Sam.

"…But not good enough."

"Oh, no you don't!"

The red-headed teenager leapt off the useless barricade onto Skulker's oversized arm, prompting him to misfire. His blast scorched the wall, but missed Sam by a few feet. Skulker briefly waddled in surprise before swinging his arm—hard. This sent the jock airborne, and his brief flight was stopped mercilessly by his harsh collision with the concrete wall. He slumped to the floor, unmoving.

Danny watched the whole thing with his mouth open in horror, only belatedly realizing he was the only one left in the room.

Skulker strode into the room, phasing through the desk and other clutter used in the barricade. Danny wasn't aware he was backing up until he bumped into the wall.

Skulker grinned a humorless grin as he reached for his scanner.

He pointed it at the unconscious boy.

"MATCH NOT FOUND," the scanner declared.

He grabbed Danny by the collar of his shirt and jabbed the scanner into his chest.

"MATCH FOUND."

"Well, well, well, whelp. You certainly made this errand unnecessarily difficult. I have no idea what you're doing here, or why you're hiding in the first place, but if this hadn't been a total waste of my time, I might've been vaguely impressed."

"Skulker, uh there was this storm and I was sucked in and-" Danny prattled.

"Do I _look_ like your father? Save the excuses for him. He might actually be someone who cares. Now, get out of that meat suit and let's go." Skulker jabbed an oversized metal finger into Danny's borrowed chest in emphasis.

"I… I can't," Danny confessed, suddenly studying his shoes.

"Pah, just stop over-shadowing the whelp and let's get moving," Skulker said.

"I-I just said I _can't,_" Danny retorted.

Skulker raised a mechanical eyebrow.

"Won't… or _can't?_"

"Can't. Like I've been saying all this time." In demonstration, Danny clenched his fists and concentrated on releasing the teen body from his control, but a powerful elastic force kept him in place.

Whatever reaction Danny expected to get from Skulker, a hearty pot-bellied laugh certainly wasn't one of them. Across the room, the red-haired teammate stirred slightly.

"Well, you're not taking that back with us." Skulker gave a knowing grin that should've set off warnings. "But don't worry, I know a trick that can help you out."

"Really? What do I need to do?" Danny replied, somewhat optimistically.

"Oh, nothing. Just leave it all to me. I'll have you out of there in no time at all," Skulker assured. "Now come over here and I'll give you a-," He snickered, "a hand."

Skulker was up to something, but more pressingly, Danny had indeed been away from home far longer than he ever had before. He wasn't feeling strange, weird possession notwithstanding, but that didn't mean there weren't issues related to the obsession that should be addressed sooner than later. If Skulker knew how to get him out then what was the problem? He walked over to Skulker.

"Alright, so now wh-GAK!"

Danny's question was interrupted by Skulker's massive fist gripping Danny's borrowed neck and lifting him into the air. He tried to voice his distress, but without air, it was futile. He kicked and struggled to get out of Skulker's grip, but the cold metal of his hand would not relent.

Apparently, the boy sitting limp across the room silently was playing possum; he cringed at the violence.

"Stop struggling, whelp. You're only making it more difficult for yourself." He chuckled darkly.

Catching both ghosts and the redhead by surprise, Danny unceremoniously turned intangible, falling both out of Skulker's grip and through the floor they stood on before regaining tangibility. He gracelessly landed on one of the tables in the cafeteria, collapsing it with the impact, and he rolled onto the floor, head first.

He coughed violently, and sucked air into his burning lungs like he'd been underwater for hours.

"Ung," he moaned, rubbing his neck. "I'm starting to think pain is a pain in the neck."

He hadn't gained the opportunity to stand upright yet when Skulker appeared not two feet from him.

"That was perhaps the _worst_ pun I've ever heard."

Danny panicked and scrambled to his feet, running for the exit into the hallway. He'd made it to the door handle when Skulker's right arm opened, loading and priming a missile. He turned and aimed it at the pile of unconscious, netted teenagers in the middle of the room.

"Nuh-uh-ah. I was ordered to bring you back home undamaged." Skulker made a 'tsk-tsk' noise before continuing. "That didn't extend to your little friends here… or don't they mean anything to you?"

Danny paused by the door, his back facing both the unconscious teens and Skulker, and studied his feet. He should run. He'd run in the past. Why was what Skulker said stopping him? He didn't even _know_ any of them. He felt conflicted about feeling conflicted.

It'd be something to dwell on under different circumstances.

There was a beat of silence before Skulker continued, "I don't understand, nor do I honestly _care_ why this is such a difficult decision for you. Don't you want to see your precious _daddy_?" Sarcasm dripped off every word.

A very large part of Danny wanted to return home. He didn't know what the limits were of the obsession. Was it distance? Time? He didn't know, and for good reason, as it was best kept that way. Ghosts that discovered their limits ceased to be, and only a select lucky few even can return, if they ever do. However, that desire to return was overridden by the panic and screams he'd shared with his new peers, by the fear gripping his idle heart. Had he always been like Skulker? Did he want to return to an afterlife where he shared in spreading terror? For the first time in his borrowed life, he questioned it.

But instead of saying all that, in a meek voice he replied, "If I go with you, will you promise to not hurt them?"

The mechanical ghost chuckled darkly and gave a mock salute.

"Scout's honor."

"Alright." Danny turned around and slowly approached Skulker.

"Oh… by the way," Skulker added while stroking his green flaming goatee as if pretending to be deep in thought.

Skulker pointed his primed rocket at Danny.

"This was never intended for them in the first place." With a cruel glint in his eyes, he fired the rocket. Danny could do little more than close his eyes and make a futile attempt to brace himself for impact.

"BATTER UP!"

*SMACK*

Danny gave an experimental glance with one eye. He _had_ expected to see his life flash before his eyes, but considering he hadn't been alive for any considerable length of time, he worried it was so brief that he had missed it. Granted, he wasn't quite sure what to expect when he glanced around, but Mrs. Fenton standing in front of him clutching a baseball bat with the word "Fenton" on it certainly wasn't one of those things.

The rocket reversed course and exploded into Skulker, sending him backwards into the opposite wall.

"W-wha?" Danny stammered.

"Stay back, honey," Maddie warned, keeping her eyes on Skulker with knees partly bent and bat in front of her, ready for a second strike.

Skulker stood back up, brushing off soot and rubble.

"And here I thought this mission was going to be boring…" Skulker said, a twisted smile creeping across his face. Mechanisms in his suit whirled in excitement as jet wings extended from his back and a mean-looking mace was pulled from hammerspace.

"How ~_fun_~ for me."

Skulker leapt to the air and brandished the mace with both hands before swinging at Maddie Fenton. Before she could be smashed into a pile of bones and guts, Maddie lunged forward onto Skulker's back, and then landed in a kneeling pose. She turned and swung the bat only for it to be shattered by Skulker's return blow.

With Skulker's back turned, Sam poked her head from out of the hallway, grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt, and pulled him out of the battleground.

"Sam!" Danny exclaimed. "What happened? Where did y-"

Sam covered his mouth with her palm.

"Quiet. You don't want to draw attention back to us."

Despite her words, Sam couldn't help but peer from behind the door into the cafeteria. Maddie had long since discarded the baseball bat and was now dodging and rolling, avoiding Skulker's projectiles and periodic swipes with the mace.

"What is she _doing_?" Sam asked herself out loud. "Why isn't she counter-attacking?"

"Because," a large male voice offered, "she's not trying to beat him; she's trying to draw his fire away from the hostages—at least until I get this set up."

"Mr. Fenton?" Sam asked. Apparently she wasn't aware of the company they shared in the hallway.

"Please," he offered while attaching a scope to a very intimidating weapon, "Mr. Fenton was my father's name. Call me Jack."

And with that, he hefted the bulky weapon onto his shoulder and kneeled in the doorway.

"Hey! Hands off my wife!" Jack yelled.

Skulker turned, confused, to the source of the outburst.

A) He wasn't in any way touching her, having just unloaded a magazine of ammunition in her general direction.

B) He wanted to get a better look at the newest intruder.

That was his mistake. The brief pause and hesitation was the moment Jack was waiting for. He took a clean shot. The portable cannon's ammunition hit Skulker dead in the chest. The resulting explosion sent the majority of his body into the opposite wall. The wings snapped clean off and his right arm was twisted in a non-manufacturer recommended configuration. The left arm was unaccounted for.

Skulker groaned. The green sparks cracking where his arms would've connected with his body informed him he wouldn't be using them to rub his head any time soon. "Grrr. How dare you? I am Skulker, Ghost Zone's Might-"

He was interrupted by a black boot curtly stomping his chest.

"Nice to meet you, Skulker." Maddie offered in sarcastic sing-song. "I'm Maddie, this is Jack. We're the Fentons. Now that we're all acquainted . . ."

The ecto-gun she gripped whined with energy as she whipped it at his face.

"It's time to say good-bye."

Skulker snorted.

"Perhaps. Perhaps, indeed. But know this…" He paused, savoring the twist.

"Know that this is only 'till we meet again."

With that, Skulker's metallic skull flipped open, revealing a smallish green blob sitting inside. With a button press, the blob's seat jettisoned and the occupant of the android was projected upwards and through the skylight. The tempered glass shattered and rained small glass fragments with Skulker's ultimate retreat.

Maddie released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She turned, seeing Sam, Jack, and Danny in the doorway, and rushed at them.

"Oh my God. I've never been so scared in my life," Maddie cried as she brought Danny and Jack into a bear hug.

With strained breath, Danny replied as the hug was released.

"I honestly don't see why. You kicked Skulker's butt." He made mock punching and gymnastic motions with his hands.

"What? No! I was so scared about losing you." Maddie retorted.

"We both were, kiddo," Jack added, brushing aside some tears.

Another confusing sensation whipped through Danny. His throat contracted and his eyes were leaking. He'd try to make sense of that later. But for right now, he still wasn't sure what he was going to do with this 'life' but… maybe… maybe protecting others like these two strangers did would be a good place to start. Yeah… he kinda liked that idea.

The silence was broken when one of the captured teens moaned as he regained consciousness, snapping the occupants of the doorway to their senses.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

It was hours before anyone got home. Sam got ahold of the paramedics while Danny and a couple of football players ultimately missed by Skulker helped untangle their teammates. Somehow, Maddie and Jack managed to salvage Skulker's suit and load it into their RV before the medics arrived. After they actually _believed_ what they were told, an armada of medical personal were dispatched to Casper High, along with the long-overdue police force.

They were all questioned well past one in the morning. The police still didn't believe what they were being told, but the story was too consistent across too many witnesses to dismiss, either.

Physically, if not mentally, the football team would be ultimately fine. However, two members and Coach Huddle were still unaccounted for. An APB was put out for the missing people.

By the next morning, the morning news reported that Casper High would be closed pending further investigation, possibly until the coming Monday. A phone call from Mr. Lancer echoed the info, but assured them that the missing students and Huddle had been found and were safe.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

_Ghost Zone_

A smoky and purple dimension away, a small, vindictive ghost floated through the Zone, and had he been of stature, would've slammed the floating door off its hinges. As it were, he hung comically off the handle as his tiny hands struggled to turn the knob.

When Skulker managed to enter, he confronted his employer.

"Judging by the fact you come in alone, I see the hunt was less than successful."

Skulker chortled, "Hardly. I found the whelp."

"Oh? And where is my son, then?" the currently larger ghost asked.

Skulker said nothing, only casually rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together. The taller ghost grumbled before fishing out a payment.

Skulker licked his thumb as he counted the bills.

"The brat is in the real world. I last saw him possessing some kid at Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois."

"If you found him, why didn't you bring him back with you? Surely the _mightiest ghost hunter_ is capable of something so menial." The man crossed his arms.

Skulker was not amused.

"Hrmph. You think I'm not wearing my armor as a fashion statement? Two ghost hunters stepped in. Maddie and Jack Fenton, I think they were called. I'd stay clear of them if I were you."

"Jack and _Maddie_… you say." Vlad Plasmius paused and gave a wicked smirk. "Then perhaps… it's time we had a family reunion."

* * *

Kszmgln wlvh mlg szev zm lyhvhhrlm. Srh proovi lyhvhhvh uli srn.

* * *

(Sorry about the morse code message last week folks. _Apparently_, FanFiction likes to replace multiple dashes with a single dash, and limit periods to 3, per ellipsis. Which explains the total jargon. Which is cool for normal writing, but unhelpful for this.) To save you all the effort from going back and decoding, and since the contents are expired as you're already here reading this, last week's message was "The ghost zone's mightiest has been hired to find the ghost child" or something to that effect. Morse code was nice because it takes no effort to identify and decode, as opposed to more traditional ciphers, but maybe a reviewer will crack this cipher (which FanFiction _doesn't_ throw a fit over)? *shrug* Certainly wasn't the original intent.

Aaaaaaanyways,

One of the nice things about fan fiction is that you can just include characters and not have to explain their existence to your readers. Want to include a spirit with power over all things cardboard and square? No problem. Canon characters, at least, need no introduction.

But,_ Duality_ makes use of some backgroundies (Characters that are _technically_ canon but have screen time measured in seconds) that were given complete personalities and backstories by the fandom on Tumblr. (And honestly, we found them to be a lot more interesting than many canon characters.) As a courtesy, since not all of our readers are from Tumblr, or were necessarily around when these characters were developed, a brief bio will be offered as they're introduced.

* * *

**Bio: **Spike

* * *

Spike is best described as a student at Casper High having the gangly appearance of an antisocial punk, the mind of a philosopher, and… the attitude of an antisocial punk. He's a frequent study buddy of Jazz's and seemingly always has his nose in some book. Spike is named and appears for all of 10 seconds as Jazz's patient in the first DP episode: Mystery Meat.

As for his origins in the fandom... It started when they tried to quantify Jazz's popularity in school. The one time Jazz talks to her classmates about suggestions for future schools, they all walk out on her. It really doesn't seem fair that Danny has both Sam and Tucker that he can make idle conversation with, but Jazz doesn't have anyone in the show. The fandom felt Jazz deserved an actual friend, not a quicky romance option (if it can even be called that) as happened with Johnny 13, and Spike was found to fit the bill.

Considering Jazz plays a non-passive role in this fic, we felt it important for Jazz to be able to have someone to roll ideas and theories off of that isn't her parents or brother, who in all honesty would probably be slightly less useful than an internal monologue. You can track down more on his creation and some art on Tumblr with the tag "spazz brotp"


	3. Skeletons in the Closet

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

Skeletons in the Closet

* * *

_Okay, seriously, what is up with Danny?!_

_First he redecorated his room, then he confessed to his friends that he's had some form of memory loss, and then he was running down the hallway like he'd seen a ghost. At first I suspected he might be drinking underage, or perhaps even abusing drugs. But when I snuck a sample of Danny's breath with Mom's Fenton Whiffer (invented to catch when someone in the family, mainly Dad, snuck something to eat before dinner) it reported that all Danny had eaten in the last 24 hours was the cereal bar I stuffed in his mouth, some football field turf consistent with face planting during practice, and a bunch of assorted maple and oak leaves… with mustard. The lunch I gave him didn't turn up (though considering the company he keeps, I wouldn't be surprised if Tucker ate it for him)._

_Leaves with mustard. There weren't even any insecticides on them. Just plain maple and oak leaves… with mustard._

_Either Mom's invention is on the fritz, or there's something seriously strange going on with my brother._

_I mean, with the ghost attack on the school, I could almost excuse all this as a form of traumatic coping, but these strange signs all occurred _before_ the attack on the football team._

_He was_ _running in the hall, panicked, before the attack… maybe something happened to him earlier that day?_

_I really don't know what to do._

_-Excerpt from Jazz's Journal_

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Danny laid on top of his doppelgänger's bed, lost in thought. It was interesting how not actively being threatened within an inch of your _life_ allowed thoughts to flow and organize themselves.

… But that was another point of issue itself: 'your _life_'. He had been alive, once, but it was for such a brief period of his existence, that were one to draw it out on a timeline, it would be with an arrow pointing to a forgettable slit on the far end of the tape of his existence. He didn't remember much, if anything, from that time, but he was reasonably certain he had already spent more time in this meat suit than he had in his own.

_The red-headed teenager leapt off the useless barricade onto Skulker's oversized arm, prompting him to misfire. His blast scorched the wall, but missed Sam by a few feet. Skulker briefly waddled in surprise before swinging his arm—hard. This sent the jock airborne, and his brief flight was stopped mercilessly by his harsh collision with the concrete wall. He slumped to the floor, unmoving._

_Danny watched the whole thing with his mouth open in horror, only belatedly realizing he was the only one left in the room._

Why? _Why_ had that disturbed him? Worst case scenario: the jock dies, which, coming from personal experience, isn't _that_ big a deal. To top it off, he still didn't know who the jock was, so why he was concerned about a stranger was also cause for reflection.

He did know Skulker, though, and Skulker was there to bring him home. So why was being alone with him so unsettling?

He idly tossed a football into the air and caught it.

… Well, _besides_ the whole attempted murder thing. But there was a good reason behind _that_.

Hmm… Dad was probably still really mad about his leaving… not to mention the episode with Skulker would look incriminating. Dad would probably up the ante, and then there'd be a real me-

A knock on the door interrupted him.

"Danny, are you okay in there?"

"Aw, Jazz. I was in the middle of having an existential crisis. Now I'll have to start all over again. And I was on a roll too…"

There was a beat of silence before Jazz replied.

"… Do you want me to come in and help you?"

"Nah, I think I've almost got the hang of it now. The tricky part is channeling the teenage hormone-powered angst. Seriously, how do you control this stuff? Why isn't this planet ruled by vigilante gangs of Batman? ...Bat_men_?"

"I was just trying to show some concern." Hearing only her voice did nothing to hide the scowl she was surely making. "You don't need to be sarcastic."

"I was being sarcastic?"

"There! You're still doing it."

"Am I?" Danny sounded almost genuinely confused. _Almost_, but Jazz knew better.

"Grah! Just forget it. Since you've got nothing better to do, come and help me move stuff from the basement."

The door clicked open, and Danny exited the bedroom and followed Jazz down several flights of stairs into the basement. There, Jack and Maddie were already packing away equipment, old research, and even some prototypes.

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" Danny asked as he played with a fan blade that was sticking out of one cardboard box. It resisted spinning and squealed. Clearly, it needed some oil.

Jack poked his head up from packing away another experiment.

"We need to clear room in the lab so we can reverse-engineer this mechanical exoskeleton from that ghost," Jack explained, slapping the back of Skulker's suit in emphasis.

Maddie nodded in agreement.

"We've barely even scratched the surface in the past day and what we've discovered already puts the last three years of research to shame." She kicked a box over to Jack's feet. "Now Jack, Danny, why don't you guys start taking these things up to the top floor? Jazz and I can continue sorting."

With minimal complaining, the males gathered the first load of boxes and began the long trek up to the top floor.

Jazz made her way into the room.

"What about these thermoses? They look new," she asked.

"Oh, those are something your father was working on a few days ago. Leave them where they are for now. Start with the bookcase," Maddie replied as she worked at dismantling one of the larger prototypes Jazz couldn't identify.

Jazz huffed. Leave it to dad to waste time creating high-tech soup containers. She walked over to the ceiling-high bookshelf and started neatly packing the old notebooks and research books away.

Eventually, Jack and Danny returned, laughing about some story involving the Fenton Fisher and some boxers, gathered a couple more boxes, and returned back upstairs.

Jazz idly thought it was nice to see Jack and Danny bonding. Danny hadn't really been that close to either parent since he hit puberty. Her thoughts, however, cost Jazz her concentration, and she tripped over the box she was supposed to be packing. The contents of a folder stuffed in a notebook she was holding scattered on the floor.

"Everything alright, Jazz?" Maddie asked from somewhere beyond the now slightly smaller prototype.

"Yeah, I've got this." Jazz started picking the papers back up. "Wait… what's this?" Jazz picked up an old photograph from the mess.

"Hmm? Something the matter, honey?" Maddie asked.

"Oh, nothing," she replied idly, picking up the contents of the folder. "Oh! It's you and Dad from when you were younger," she said, looking at the 20-something-year-old photograph.

"Really?" Maddie poked out from behind the prototype. Grease was smeared all over her hazmat suit, and she wiped away some sweat with an arm that was clutching a large wrench. "Come over here and let me see."

Jazz brushed herself off and headed over to where Maddie was waiting. Jazz wasn't sure what she was expecting her Mom to do when she saw the photo. But a siphoning of emotion from her face certainly wasn't it. Maddie didn't pale, per se, but she was a lot less lively.

Not really knowing what else to do, Jazz broke the ice.

"I… um… I recognize you and dad… who's the third scientist?" The picture showed a college-aged Maddie with a crazy perm and a mullet-bearing Jack smiling open-armed for the camera, with a third person smiling with them in the center.

"… That … that was Vlad." Maddie eventually got out. Her face was blank, but the whirlwind of emotions barely visible below the surface was not lost on Jazz.

"Was Vlad a good friend, or a fellow researcher?" Jazz asked.

Maddie's voice was barely audible.

"… He… he was my husband. Oh God…" She sat back down.

In all her life, Jazz had never heard this little fact. "Wait… wait wait… Dad wasn't your first husband? What happened? Why'd you divorce him?"

A moment passed before Maddie replied.

"I _never_ divorced him."

The way her mom said it, made Jazz feel there may have been a double meaning to that phrase.

"… You've secretly been a polygamist?" Jazz asked, confused. She didn't _actually_ feel that was the right train of thought, but nothing else came to mind.

Maddie looked up from where she sat, equal parts surprised and confused.

"…What? No. He's…" Maddie took a deep breath and sighed, "Vlad's dead, Jazz. A long, long time ago…" Maddie's lips continued to move, but no sound came out.

Jazz paled and clapped her hands over her mouth. "I'm so sorry. What happened to him?"

Maddie muttered something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that…" Jazz replied.

"I don't… want to talk about it." Maddie said a bit louder.

"Oh… okay." Jazz's curiosity was biting at her, but as a budding psychologist, she knew enough to know when to back off.

Maddie carelessly tossed picture of the three young scientists into the trash. Then she brushed herself off and headed up the stairs… there she paused and without turning around she said softly, "He died in a volcano." Visions of a horrid, violent hot death danced in Jazz's imagination.

Then Maddie went the rest of the way up the stairwell and disappeared into the main house.

Jazz made her way to the trash bin, removed the photo, and studied the scientist in the center.

"So Mom married a geologist? Huh… Curious. I wonder what life might've been if he had been our dad."

Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother coming down the stairs to get more boxes; she quickly hid the photo.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The dinner table was uncharacteristically quiet, Danny thought.

The basement lab had been cleared of all the extraneous materials. They'd have to spend another day rearranging the storage room to make it into a second lab. Just because examining Skulker's armor would take up most of the basement lab, didn't mean inventing couldn't still be done, albeit at a much slower pace and lower priority than before. But it was already late and time for dinner.

Danny liked eating meals with the Fentons. Well… in so far as Mr. &amp; Mrs. Fenton didn't actually _cook_. Their food had a strange consistent habit of biting back, but he enjoyed the idle chatter and company nonetheless.

Not that he ever had to eat in the ghost zone either, but everything was business with Dad. He was almost excessively protective, but bonding just wasn't his thing.

Fortunately, or perhaps not in retrospect, Maddie wasn't in the mood to cook anything and was uncharacteristically distracted. Seeing as Jack was an even less competent cook than Maddie, he had left to go pick up dinner at the Nasty Burger.

But the only thing said was by Jazz idly watching the TV on the counter.

"Judging by the traffic collision report, Dad should be about halfway back by now."

And the table was awkwardly silent again.

Something probably happened between Maddie and Jazz. Jazz wasn't even snarking, reading, or reciting her psychobabble. She was just… lost in thought.

Danny was about to say "Hey, why the long faces?", but the mental images of Sam and Tucker twisting his arm behind his back surfaced almost as immediately as he thought about opening his mouth. He didn't know why it might be a bad thing to say, but he was sure that'd be what Sam and Tucker would do to him if he were to.

Maybe a different topic?

"Um…"

Two pairs of eyes looked in his direction. Suddenly Danny felt a little less like speaking.

"…Never-mind." Danny eventually huffed.

"What is it Danny?" Maddie asked. She seemed ever so marginally distracted from whatever was eating her.

"I was just thinking about the attack on the school… how you saved everyone," Danny began. "… It was kinda cool."

Maddie gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle, "Oh, Danny. That was perhaps one of the scariest days I've had since… well, that's not important." She mellowed again.

Jazz glanced at her Mom.

Maddie had a sip of her tea and took calming breath.

"But the important thing is that you and everyone else were safe."

"But that's just it." Danny countered, "You were afraid, and you selflessly saved everyone." Danny suddenly turned to the floor, studying his shoes. The right-most aglet had almost completely dissolved. "I'd… I'd kinda like to be able to do that… To do what you do…" His voice had almost dissolved to a whisper by the end of that sentence.

Maddie spat her tea across the table. Jazz awkwardly blinked, before she grabbed some napkins and offered one to Danny as she wiped the brown liquid off her own face.

"Wait… seriously?" Maddie asked, too distracted to care about the mess she just made.

Unsure if he had said the wrong thing, Danny meekly nodded, not daring to say anything else.

"Oh Danny! You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that!" Maddie exclaimed, her earlier melancholy seemingly forgotten. She got up from her seat and gave Danny a tight hug. "Wait till your father hears this."

Danny felt a double tinge of guilt. _His_ father might not approve. And… would the Fentons still approve if they learned their son wasn't _actually_ their son?

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

_"Goooooooood morning Illinois! This is Chet Ubetcha saying 'I sure ain't afraid of no ghosts'. It's now day three after the bizarre attack on the local Amity Park High School, Casper High. Authorities still have yet to come to any kind of a consensus on what actually transpired there. Experts' claims vary from acts of terrorism to elaborate out-of-control pranks. But the one story that isn't in question is that the day was saved thanks to the heroic efforts of local couple Jack and Maddie Fenton, who insist themselves that the attack was spurred on by ghosts, of all things. So what do you think, America? Brave parents or disillusioned scientists? We've received word that the damage to Casper High was mostly isolated to the cafeteria. With the main investigation over and cleanup completed, the school will reopen today. And, in our next story, the Amity police department is under investigation for their negligence in response to emergency calls. . . ."_

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz sat at her customary spot in the school library. Her Spanish book was wide open, her notes were all laid out, but her focus was on the old photograph with the three young scientists. Spike was leaning precariously in his chair, feet kicked back and crossed on the study table while scowling at Shakespeare's Othello.

"This is just so aggravating," she said aloud.

"I know, right. Desdemona said she wasn't cheating, which was true, and then her boyfriend accuses her of lying and strangles her." Spike smacked his open book in emphasis. "It's all circumstantial ad hominem. I mean like, dude, why'd ya bother asking? Ya siphon all your gray matter into your biceps or somethin'?" He slammed it on the table in frustration.

Spike's actions gave Jazz pause. First, because English plays were the furthest from what was on her mind and some mental back-peddling was required to process what he was saying; second, it was perhaps the longest (and most animated) thing Spike had ever said in her presence that wasn't a snide remark.

"… No," She sighed. "Come take a look at this."

Spike muttered something under breath about being comfortable where he was, but brought his chair down to earth. He peered at the photo in question.

"What's with the mullet? Didn't those things die out in the 90's?"

Jazz gave a noncommittal shrug. "That's my mom's late husband. And before you ask, yes, that other guy is my Dad."

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I didn't know anything about it until last night either. The thing is, I tried grilling Mom for info on him, but all I got was that his name is Vlad and he died in a volcano. I don't even know if Vlad is a first or a last name. Not that even knowing how he died helps much. Never mind how many active volcanos there are, volcanos aren't exactly known for small body counts when they erupt. And that's even assuming he died in an eruption. If he died in an accident as a geologist, which I _think_ is more plausible, it could possibly not be tied to any natural disas-"

The photo was slipped out of her hand and her Spanish text book was slid in its place.

Jazz didn't know how she missed it, but Spike was already back with his feet on the table. Othello still plastered on the table where he threw it, he was now reading "The Theory of Moral Sentiments".

"You know, for someone who's always reading about ethics, it's considered polite to give notice that you've lost interest or at least to feign interest." Jazz countered.

"Cierra el hocico y ponte a estudiar." Spike leaned back further, crossed his legs, and turned a page.

Jazz furrowed her brow at him. Without turning from his book, Spike glanced in her direction out of the corner of his eyes and let a Mona Lisa smile escape his lips, but only for a second.

They didn't talk for the rest of the period.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The bell rang, interrupting Mr. Falluca's closing lecture on the quadratic formula. "Don't you dare leave yet. Your homework for tonight is on page 126. Do the even problems numbered 32-64. You're dismissed."

Danny diligently jotted the assignment down then waited for Sam and Tucker at the door. The land of the living sure was a fun place to visit: football seemed interesting, if you removed Skulker from the picture, which he hoped wasn't a regular thing; the family of his meat sack was cool; friends were nice too. But that's just it, 'to visit'. Academia certainly wasn't high on the list of things he enjoyed. Not to mention that when Dad caught up with him he'd flip out. He still didn't really know how he got here and trapped in this meat suit. Not helping things: all his immediate memories after the storm were a confusing series of blackouts.

But the real world was still a lot of fun. Maybe he could sneak away more regularly once he got back… assuming there was a less involved way to do it. He wasn't really looking forward to being imploded sideways in a vortex again any time soon.

But Skulker made it into reality somehow and he wasn't trapped in a meat suit. Maybe his armor protected him? Or maybe there's another way? Not that he's around to ask, or might even be willing to say, considering what happened.

Complicating things, there's the odd knowledge that he _shouldn't_ have but did anyways. Granted, the knowledge could be fuzzy or misdirected at times, but he knew all _his_ teacher's names. He knew where the classrooms were. He recognized the texture of the railing in the stairwell. He knew the location of the model paints and even how to properly apply them to the space ship models.

But, there weren't any memories associated with any of that knowledge or skills. Before he met the guy, he somehow knew _of_ Mr. Lancer, but didn't actually _know_ him. He couldn't tell you anything about his personality or any presumably previous engagements the meat bag might've had with him. He had the skills to apply primers, paints and decals, but couldn't pick out which of the models were done by the body he was possessing from something he may have gotten from a friend who also did those things.

Well, there were at least two people who knew part of the story on how he got trapped here, and here they were.

"Hey Sam, Tuck. Could I bother you guys about something?" Danny asked.

"Sure, what's up?" Tucker replied.

"Well… it's about uh…" He fumbled for words that weren't completely untrue, "… the memories I don't have. What was going on when-"

But Sam interrupted him, "Oh hey Danny, aren't they going to post who made the team at lunch today? We'd better hurry!" She grabbed Tucker by the arm and ran down the hallway.

Danny crossed his arms as he watched the duo disappear onto the cafeteria. Sam obviously doesn't want to incriminate herself by bringing the topic up. Maybe he'd have a better chance with Tucker alone? He at least seemed more responsible the other day.

With a sigh, he hefted his backpack over his shoulder and strolled his way to the cafeteria. He just passed Coach Huddle exiting the room.

"DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH! DASH!"

There was a mob of students gathered at the bulletin board. Dash was lifted off the ground and carried to the A-Lister's table by his groupies.

"-I'm just saying I don't see what the big deal is." Valerie stated in-between mouthfuls of salad. "It's _tryouts_. It's not like he won a game."

"Well… maybe you'll understand when you're older," Kwan deadpanned.

"Kwan, my birthday is 2 months ahead of yours," Valerie countered.

"Maybe when you're older," Kwan repeated while doing a poor job of keeping a straight face.

Valerie decided not to humor him and contented herself to stabbing green leafy vegetables with audible clinks.

Danny chuckled at the overheard conversation as he weaved his way to the board. The list of students was smaller than what he remembered showed up for practice that day. Whether it was from Coach Huddle dismissing them for hazing Sam, or if it was because concerned parents pulled them out of Casper High for their safety after the attack was impossible to discern.

Danny slid his finger across the list, muttering under his breath as he did.

"Come on… Come on… Come on… 'D. Fenton' YES!" For good measure, he checked for his friend's names. Danny frowned. There was a "S. Masonery"; someone had graffitied the sheet and the 'ery' was in wrong color ink, not to mention it was misspelled. Tucker's name, of course, didn't appear, since he hadn't shown up, much less expressed interest, but it didn't hurt to check anyways.

Danny turned to return to his normal seat when he bumped into the redheaded lanky jock he and Sam had hid with during Skulker's visit. The boy gave him a look Danny couldn't interpret. …What was his name again?

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, "Uh, sorry about that-"

The boy scrunched his nose and gave Danny the 'eyes on you' gesture before walking around Danny to check the bulletin board.

Danny shrugged, not knowing what to make of the exchange, and headed over to the table. Tucker was already seated there, eating a cheeseburger.

Tucker looked up and forced down the bite he was already chewing. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd be sitting with the A-Listers now." Tucker pointed his thumb over his shoulder to where Dash, Paulina, Valerie, Kwan and a few other faces that Danny couldn't put names to sat… which now included the lanky boy with the attitude issue as he took his seat. He seemed in higher spirits than he was a moment ago. The boy probably qualified for the team as well.

Danny turned back to Tucker, "Uh… why would I suddenly sit there?"

Tucker slapped himself into a face-palm.

"Dude, you're on the football team right? That's like automatic social status."

As if on cue, a paper football Dash flicked over Kwan's goal post hands impaled itself into Sam's hair. She was holding her vegetarian lunch tray with a dispassionate expression on her face. There was an unwarranted amount of snickering coming from more than one table.

"Huh… must've not gotten the memo." Sam deadpanned before sitting down next to Tucker. "You can go sit there Danny. We all know it's your chance to make conversation with Valerie."

Danny turned back to the A-Lister's table. Valerie was comparing expensive accessories with Paulina, who was sitting across from the redheaded lanky boy who was drilling holes with his eyes at Danny. A blond with a 9 on her shirt was turned away from those sitting at the table.

"Eeeeeeeeeh… the seats are all taken anyways." He sat down across from Tucker.

"You're a fool, Danny." Tucker taunted before taking another bite. His words had a mild venom to them, but his expression told Danny that Tucker was more than a little relieved that he wasn't going to be eating alone for the rest of the season.

As the trio ate, Danny studied the A-Listers. He'd interacted with Kwan and Dash, not much to note there. But Paulina and Valerie were another story. This was the first time he'd paid attention to them since arriving, but he already knew their names despite not having any reason to. On the other end of the spectrum, the red headed boy… he'd run into several times but couldn't recall any trivia about him beyond what he'd learned through those direct interactions. Then there were the other teens seated there, but he'd neither interacted with nor had any special knowledge of.

If there was a pattern or reason why he knew about some people but not others, it was lost on Danny.

"Say, who's the kid over there that's glaring daggers at me?" Danny asked his lunch mates.

Sam and Tucker glanced at the A-Lister's table.

"The guy we hid in the bio-lab with?" Sam asked.

Danny nodded.

"Huh, dunno actually." She took a bite of carrot. "I wonder what's eating him."

When the boy noticed Danny's entire table was staring at him, he turned and busied himself with his lunch, but he kept giving side glances back at Danny.

Tucker perked up, "Speaking of which, you guys never actually told me what happened to you guys there. Spill."

As Sam gave her account of what happened, Danny pulled up his paper bag lunch.

He went to unroll the top when the bag hopped and a hideous saliva drooling "GRAWWHGH" _roared_ from the bag.

Danny panicked, grabbed his heavy notebook, and smacked the paper bag frantically until it stopped moving.

The entire cafeteria went silent.

Danny gave a nervous laugh. The bag twitched and he gave it one last forceful hit.

It was awkward, but the cafeteria slowly returned to normal levels of chatter.

"Danny, you really ought to be buying your own lunches. Or at least consider making your own." Tucker offered as he cautiously picked at the flattened bag. He peeked inside, cringed, and slid the bag back across the table.

"What was it?" Sam asked.

"_What_ is the operative word." Tucker replied. "I think it was _supposed_ to be a pop-tart."

"A pop-tart?" Her eyebrows crossed in confusion, "How is _that_ lunch?"

"How indeed, Sam… _How indeed_." Tucker rambled. He grabbed a fist full of fries off his tray and shared them with Danny. "So… you escaped the Bio-lab… then what?"

Sam relayed how she ran until she was clear of the hallway Skulker was occupying, met up with the Fentons, and ultimately: "… and actually, how did you beat me to the cafeteria, Danny? I took the most direct route and I didn't see you pass me."

It took a second or two for Danny to realize Sam was addressing him. "Huh?"

"How'd you get to the cafeteria so fast?" Tucker repeated.

Danny gave pause. Sam had already pointed out the contradiction with any mundane lie he could make up. Maybe just omit some details and hope they don't notice? After all, he'd surprised himself when he phased through the floor. He hadn't been able to do that the first day. "Skulker… he grabbed me by the neck. He started choking me… and then we fell through the floor." Danny looked down at himself and was a bit surprised to find himself clutching his neck protectively as he relayed the memory. He placed his arms back on the table a bit sheepishly.

"He strangled you!?" Sam asked aghast.

"But wait… I thought his M.O. was to net everyone and collect them here in the cafeteria?" Tucker added.

"That's where most of the team ended up, at least," Sam added. "Wasn't he looking for some 'ghost child' or something?"

Danger. Danger Will Robinson. Danger.

"How would I know? You were there." Tucker countered. He took another bite of his burger. "Maybe Skulker went after Danny because his parents are ghost hunters… or maybe the port-"

Sam slapped her palm over Tucker's face. "X-nay on the ortalpay."

If there was ever a convenient transition statement, "Say, I've been meaning to ask… what actually happened. To me I mean?"

Tucker removed Sam's hand from his face and downed the last of his burger. "Amnesia still affecting you?" He sighed, "I keep saying, you need to see a doctor."

"Guys, is this really the place to be discussing this?" Sam hissed.

"No, Sam. I'm not going to be a party to this. Danny is hurt, and all you care about is covering your own back." Tucker stood up and grabbed his stuff. "I'll see you later." And with that he walked to the cafeteria monitor, probably to negotiate being allowed to leave early.

Sam remained seated, her mouth agape. Apparently what Tucker said hit her hard. She didn't even flinch when a second paper football grazed her.

"… I'll be right back." And with that, Danny chased after Tucker. "Hey Tucker, wait. I still need to ask you something."

Tucker turned and simply nodded.

"When… How-" Danny struggled to find words that were not untrue. "What caused my accident?"

Tucker plainly replied, "Sam dared you to go into your parents' ghost portal. You got seriously zapped. I honestly don't know how you're still alive."

_Me neither. _"And… where is this ghost portal?" Danny asked.

"It's in your basement."

The bell rang then and the students all got up, started discarding their garbage, and headed off to their next class. Tucker and Danny got swept away in different directions before Danny could ask what it even looked like.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"Johnston! Get _down_ from that goal post! It is _not_ a jungle gym! And Baxter, you call that a hustle? Go back to the end of the field and sprint like your life depends on it. Fenton! The phrase is 'stop and _smell _the roses', get those _damn_ things out of your mouth. That's a topiary, not a salad bar. Weston! Ignore Fenton and get your mind back on the game. Greer, don't think I can't see what you're doing. We're going to have a talk afterwards about how we treat teammates. Manson, put your tongue back in your mouth, don't think I'm not going to have a word with you once I'm done with Greer."

Coach Huddle was convinced he was _dead_. He was dead and _this_ was hell. Sure, he said that every year; losing seniors and gaining freshmen always made for a rough start of a season. But THIS? This wasn't a football team. This was _daycare._

The freak attack on the school had cost the team big. Three days lost meant three lost days of practice, and thanks to a scheduling snafu, the match against Norrisville High was coming sooner, not later.

It would be the ultimate test of skill to get this team in shape for the match.

"JOHNSTON! What did I _JUST_ finish saying to you?!"

Oh, who was he kidding? It'd take every inch of will power he had to resist _strangling_ each and every last one of them and then going home to watch reruns of "_The Munsters_".

"JOHNSTON, I _SWEAR_, IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN FROM THERE I'M GOING UP AFTER YOU."

He was not paid _near_ enough to deal with this.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz knew it was pointless, the lights were off and no one was inside, but she tried the door to her social studies classroom. Yep, locked. She cupped her hands over her eyes and she peered inside. If she dropped the photo in there, it would be impossible to tell either way with the poor angle and absence of good light.

She sighed. She considered herself to be quite organized, and losing that photograph of all things… it was beyond sloppy, beyond careless.

She turned the corner and was relieved to know they hadn't yet closed the library down. She entered and was mildly surprised to see Spike typing away at one of the internet terminals.

"Hey, Spike."

The boy didn't turn to face her and continued to browse unimpeded.

She cleared he throat. "I was wondering if you happen to have seen the photo I showed you since this morning? I seem to have mispl-"

With one hand, Spike worked the mouse. With his other, he waved it around melodramatically, and with a twist of his fingers in a trick of perspective, the photo appeared in hand. He never looked away from the screen.

It was perhaps the most _apathetic_ magic trick Jazz had ever seen. She snatched it from his fingers, concerned he might make it disappear again as an encore.

"You had this all this time?! I've been looking all over the school for this. This _isn't_ funny."

"Eh," he unhelpfully grunted in reply.

The printer came to life and Spike got up from his seat. He planted his hands in his pockets and, with his trademark wretched posture, he strolled out the library.

"Spike! Wait! Where are you going?" Jazz took a calming sigh in defeat when he crossed the sliding automatic doors.

Jazz sat down and studied the photograph for the 40th time. It didn't tell her anything more than the first 39 times did. The back side of the photo was dated about twenty years ago and four years before she was born. The front side showed the three scientists smiling, arms out stretched as if to say "Ta-da" with whatever gizmo they had in front of them. The photo was poorly cropped, so aside from the fact that it had asymmetrical metal things sticking out of it, there wasn't anything to say what the invention was or did…not that knowing what the whole thing looked like would be realistically helpful in figuring out what the thing did. Dad wasn't one that was known for conventional engineering practices in _anything_ he had his hands in.

The printer finished spitting out paper and gave a final mechanical whine before it shifted back into standby.

"We're closing up now. If you could just gather your things, Jazz," the librarian called out from the reference desk.

Jazz sighed for the who-knows-how-manyth time that day. No way was Spike going to be back in time to collect what he printed. She couldn't afford to go find him, it'd have to wait until tomorrow. She gathered the surprisingly heavy stack of paper. The cover sheet had a logo in the silhouetted shape of an atom with an 'A' superimposed over top.

Jazz walked out of the library and sat on a bench. She pulled out the photograph and looked at the name tags on the scientists. They were out of focus and too small to read in any case, but they did all have a black splotch that carried a more than passing resemblance to the logo from Spike's print out.

Jazz flipped through the stack. "Axion labs… huh." It most certainly was a lead. She looked at the wall clock. Football practice should be wrapping up. Better go meet with Danny.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The scrimmage was almost up, at least if the location of the sun was anything to go by. The team was divided Seniors and Freshmen vs. Sophomores and Juniors. Calling it an evenly matched game would be the _politically correct_ thing to say. The _truth_ was it was 0-0 and the ball had barely ever moved from center field. Whoever had the ball would be immediately dog piled by the team. Not the opposing team. The team. The _entire_ team.

It was an unmitigated _disaster_.

… And Danny was _loving_ every minute of it.

Coach Huddle had long since given up trying to manage the practice game and was currently involved in a three-way shouting match with Sam and Greer.

Dash and Kwan, _to their credit_, were trying to bring the game to some degree of order, but it's not like they could resist the opportunity to pile drive a rookie or three themselves.

… And it goes without saying that they _started_ the indiscriminate dog piling in the first place.

"Hey Fenturf, you're open!" Dash called.

The ball landed cleanly in Danny's hands.

"Uh-oh." Danny's pupils shrank as a massive two-ton shadow crawling with limbs descended upon him.

The pain… it was sudden, complete, and total. Danny wanted, _craved_ to get out from underneath. But the mass was making it impossible to move.

… Also it was hard to breathe.

Danny squeezed and wiggled, but it was futile. The overwhelming weight of his teammates pinned him in place. He was starting to get a little light-headed on top of it.

Apparently, being on the receiving end of a dog pile was a _lot_ less fun than being among those piling.

With barely a conscious thought, he turned himself intangible. From there it was effortless to remove himself from the pile of rowdy teenagers.

The fact that intangibility was so effortless was startling in and of itself. In the incident with Skulker, turning intangible then was somewhere between a fluke and a reflex. Here there was conscious, almost reflexive, control. It seemed his powers were returning to him... or at least intangibility was.

Danny reverted and turned back to the wiggling mass of teens. They were still struggling to immobilize him from within the pile that he was not currently under. The lanky red headed boy (whom Danny had come to learn during practice was named Wesley Weston) was comically tangled in the pile of bodies. Judging by his positioning, it didn't seem like he was so much an active dog piler so much as someone caught in the wave. In utter contrast to his "dang it let me out of this mess" pose, his facial expression was frozen staring at Danny and his mouth was dropped open.

Danny _could _lend Wes a hand, tangibility powers or not. It's not like it was the first time Weston had seen them, thinking back to the Skulker incident…

… Or he could take the football that was still in his hands and make an easy goal.

It was never a decision.

Danny skipped like a school girl all the way to the goal, pirouetted, and lazily dropped the ball in an 'oopsie' form into the end zone.

Wes ultimately never needed Danny's help getting untangled. It still took him a little while to get out, but once he did, he ran to Coach Huddle.

"COACH COACH! DANNY-yyyyyy… oooooh boy."

The giant ogre of a man slowly turned. He held Sam and Greer each suspended midair by the necks of their uniform in one fist each. The two teens seemed oblivious to their situation and were glaring so hard at each other that lightning practically shot out between them. The sneer and beady eyes the coach gave Wesley looked so _beyond_ mad, _beyond_ having had lost all composure, it was like he was ready to _kill_ the next person who opened their mouth.

… And judging by his ambiguously-stated military background, his behavior when the Terminator creature showed up, and the rumors the students would tell each other about him in the locker room, he had _very_ little doubt that he could, would, and had killed.

…And that it was taking everything the man had to _pretend _he had any sense of patience left.

"What. Do. You. Want."

It was _phrased_ as a question, but Wes got the distinct impression the coach wasn't asking.

Wes swallowed, "Uh, Danny… he uh… made a goal."

If Coach Huddle was expecting anything to come out of Wes's mouth, something constructive to the game he was _allegedly _coaching was so far detached from it that he mentally blanked out. He unceremoniously dropped Sam and Greer from his out stretched arms. They each landed with an 'oof' and kicked up clouds of dirt with the impact.

Coach Huddle grabbed his whistle and gave a piercing blow. The noise startled the team and they all looked up to Huddle, mostly still from the dog pile.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend say 'good practice', or 'we'll do better next time' or 'nice game'. Just… Get out. Just… scram."

Huddle blew one last time and dismissed the team. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Then he looked up, and he regretted it so _so_ much…

"DAMMIT JOHNSTON!"

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

As usual, the boy's locker room was thick with the stench of body odor as the team got changed before heading home. Sam was naturally not a part of this crew, as she had the entirety of the girl's locker room to herself. It probably suited her since it was just one less place that the less mature members of the team could harass her.

Danny unclasped his pads and stuffed them in his locker. A tap on his back startled him.

"Hey Fenton, nice job." Kwan complimented, "I didn't even notice how you slipped out to make that goal."

Danny went stiff. He'd _forgotten_ that corporeals couldn't phase through solid objects… and he'd just done that _out in the open_. This was _bad. _He didn't need anyone thinking he was associated with Skulker.

Well, he was_, _but that was _beside_ the point.

Maybe this was as far as their fleshy powers of observation would go and the point would be dropped?

"That's because he just **walked right through you.**" Wes added from the entrance to the locker room.

Oh yeah, Weston. He'd kinda seen the whole thing, hadn't he?

"I saw the whole thing." Wes added.

Well, _gee golly_ _gosh_, thanks for clearing up that internal monologue, Weston.

"Well, excuse you, Weston, don't get your panties all in a bunch." Kwan countered "Between Dash and Danny we might actually stand a chance this year if he can keep up plays like that."

The sound of his name grabbed Dash's attention. "Hey! No way is Fenturd anywhere near my level of skill."

Kwan put his hands up in a 'calm down' wave. "Take it easy dude. I'm just saying, 'There's no I in team', right?"

"The only reason Fenton _has that level of skill-" _Wes accented with air quotes, "-is because he's a GHOST. He _physically_ walked through you all."

The locker room went _dead_ quiet.

_Oh… no…_

There was no hesitation.

"Kwan, grab Fenton." Dash ordered.

_Oh no… oh no…_

Kwan tightly gripped Danny instantly.

_"_Now, lets figure this out scientifically. First we have an accusation." Dash stated as he circled Danny.

"It's called a hypothesis." Kwan corrected.

Dash squinted at Kwan before moving on, "Then you try it out."

"The generally accepted term is 'test'."

"…"

Danny had no idea where this was going, and it made him nervous. Wes watched, leaning from the back wall arms crossed with a smug grin plastered on his face.

_"…_Now," Dash cleared his throat and pretended to stroke a nonexistent beard as if he were some old foggie scientist, "my _hypothesis, _is that since ghosts can pass through things, one should immediately not be affected by… THIS"

Dash reached behind Danny, grabbed his underwear, and yanked them upwards and hooked them over Danny's head.

The wild discomfort Danny felt was outrageous! He tripped to the floor and wanted _desperately_ to be out of this wretched body. He yanked and pulled and tore but whatever cosmic forces were holding him to this form wouldn't relent. He continued to convulse on the floor.

"An atomic wedgie…" Kwan raised an eyebrow, then twirled his equally nonexistent mustache, "an unorthodox test. I must congratulate you, my good man."

"I am congratulated." Dash took a mock bow.

"… But you know… for this to be _truly_ scientific, we need a control group…" Kwan added while glancing in Wes's direction.

"A what?"

Kwan held back a sigh, "You need to prove if Danny's reaction was out of the ordinary by giving someone else the same atomic wedgie."

"Oh," Dash's expression turned dark, "Riiiight."

Wes's self-serving grin inverted when it dawned on him what the larger jocks were planning. He made to run for the exit, but Dash grabbed him by the back of the neck before he could.

"If you would do the honors, my good man." Dash motioned with a _horrible_ imitation of some unidentifiable European accent.

"No no wait! I'm not a ghost! HE-" Wes pleaded.

"It would be my honor." Kwan reached in, grabbed Wes's undergarments, and hooked them over his head in one smooth motion.

Wes gave a high-pitched squeak before dropping to the floor and rolling around.

The locker room's occupants watched the two teens squirm around on the floor.

Kwan hemmed and hawed. "I think we can discredit the hypothesis that Danny is a ghost. His observed reaction is no different from the control group."

"Heh, who says bullying and science don't mix," Dash finalized.

The two large teens high fived each other and then cleared out of the locker room.

"I hate you all," Wes scowled. It might've been more intimidating if it wasn't significantly higher pitched than normal.

Danny twitched in agreement.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The trip back to Fenton Works was pleasantly, if not uncharacteristically, quiet for once, Jazz thought to herself. Danny hadn't said a word since being picked up, though he did look a bit uncomfortable. But she'd deal with Danny's eccentric behavior later.

When they got inside, Jazz immediately went up to her room, eager to pore through the print outs Spike had given her.

She _wanted_ to thank him for doing all that research for her, but Spike… Spike was a bit of a character, to put it mildly. The last time she complimented him, they didn't speak again for almost a week. Spike took praise like others might take a fist to the jaw. The fact that she was able to work through his shell to study together was a feat in and of itself.

No, something else would have to be done, but for now… there were more pressing things to deal with.

Jazz powered on the hand-me-down desktop computer on her desk. As it booted, she studied the documents from Spike.

Axion labs, headquartered in Canterville Wisconsin, was, thirty years ago, at the forefront of experimental medical research. A lot of the printed newspaper articles talked about innovations in prosthetics, regenerative tissue, and anti-pathogenics, amongst other things. Axion labs didn't seem to have any one particular specialty; if you had a working prototype, they wanted you and would try to help iron it out if there seemed to be promise. Their contract paperwork, however, was legendary for all the fine print.

There was an article that leaked, in a gossip column, that Axion labs had some new experts in the field of paranormalcy. The attached photo was beyond poorly shot and clearly not proof of anything, much less of the paranormal, but the frame of her dad was unmistakable.

The computer had long since booted up when she turned from the stack of paper. She opened the web browser.

**Web Search**:_ Axion Labs Vlad_

The only relevant search result was an internal memo that someone copied to their server. It was dated about twenty years ago, announcing the closing of the paranormal division with the combined retirement and death of the key members.

"Jack Fenton, Vlad &amp; Madeline _Plasmius_, huh."

**Web Search**:_ Vlad Plasmius Obituary_

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Danny waited until Jack and Maddie had gone to bed. After the incident in the locker room, he couldn't afford any more close calls.

Of course, once he was back home in the ghost zone, tattletales like Wes wouldn't be a problem anymore. Though, yeah, school, and more particularly football was fun, and it's not like he'd burned any bridges yet. Maybe he could commute to the land of the living? Were there even busses that stop inter-dimensionally?

There'd be time to figure that out later. Right now, the issue was getting home before Dad got too cross or the effects of the obsession kicked in. Hopefully, he might not notice he'd been gone almost a week now? Oh but wait, Skulker was sent by Dad the day after right? He'd had at least half a week now to freak out about it.

He crept down the stairs into the basement. Skulker's suit had been stripped of all its armor and armaments, which were spread out across the various tables. Off along the wall, the main endoskeleton stood idle. For obvious reasons, Danny had never seen it like that. It looked oddly brittle without the protective shell. He knew it probably wasn't, but that's how it looked anyways.

Searching for the portal was easier than he expected. There wasn't much left in the lab from the original accident that wasn't Skulker-related. Of those things, a giant wall-mounted door and the adjoining equipment kinda stood out. The portal was one of a handful of projects that were either too big or too far along to move to the retrofitted upstairs room.

Danny went to the adjoining machine and plugged it in. The portal whirled in excitement as it prepared to re-open a tear in reality.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

CANTERVILLE, WI - Tragedy strikes estranged household.

On Tuesday at roughly 9:30pm, a local mansion was struck by a cataclysmic explosion. Police have not yet disclosed what happened and continue to investigate, but have confirmed there are two bodies found in the wreckage: An adult male and an infant. Visiting Alicia Bemelmans (26 - SPITTOON, AR) claims the bodies are that of her newborn nephew, Daniel "Danny" Plasmius, and brother in law, Vlad "good for nothing" Plasmius. Alicia attests that before the house exploded, she was threatened at gunpoint by Vlad. Her sister, now widow, Madeline Plasmius, could not be reached for comment.

* * *

The article continued to detail burial arrangements for the public but Jazz just stared at the screen, not reading further. Her mind was barely processing what she just learned, her mouth was open in horror. Where do you even _begin_ to process this?

When Jazz searched for the obituaries, she found it odd that the first result was, not for a funeral home or related, but for a local newspaper headline. Finding it was simultaneously the best and worst thing she could've found.

Her step-dad held Aunt Alicia at gunpoint? She had a half brother with the same name? Mom had lived in a mansion?

Her mind could've floated to any or all of those things… but there was one thought, one memory that traveled above all others…

_"He died in a volcano."_

Not only did he not die in a volcano, but there are _no_ volcanoes in Wisconsin.

At first, solving this mystery of her family was out of some sort of fun vicarious nostalgia… but this? This was opening a hope chest and discovering it was actually _Pandora's box_.

Why did Mom lie? Did she _murder_ her ex-husband?

Jazz felt sick to her stomach and turned off the computer. She needed a distraction, _anything._ She flipped back to Spike's printouts.

The final press release for Axion Labs was dated about six years ago. It was typical business fluff, promising non-stop great products on the market for the coming 8 quarters.

The next article gave Jazz pause. A conspiracy nut claimed Axion labs' abrupt shutdown was directly tied to a militant sting operation. Attached was a blurry, distantly shot photograph of Axion HQ being overrun by military choppers and squads of heavily armed men. The conspiracist theorized whatever was going on in Axion Labs was _highly_ illegal to warrant that kind of expression of force.

Axion Labs was shut down six years ago. Mom and Dad left twenty years ago. They were so far apart they obviously weren't connected, right? _Right?_

Jazz went to bed, but she didn't sleep.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The lights flickered as the portal powered up. When the green "READY" light illuminated, Danny hit the "OPEN" button. With a jolt and a tremendous hiss, the large metal doors slowly split open.

Danny still didn't really know what he was going to tell his father, but there was still no sense in putting it off further.

He turned around to cross the barrier and hesitated just before the green, swirling mass.

A cloud of smoke poured out from the portal. It spiraled as it exited and eventually collected on the ground as it grew to form the silhouette of a man.

Danny backed up. "Oh no, oh no, oh no no no…"

This was _the_ worst case scenario.

The smoke turned solid and in the process was replaced by a very familiar person.

"Honey, I'm hoooome!" announced Vlad Plasmius with a toothy grin.

* * *

Gsv drwld wrw mlg orv

* * *

Technically, Maddie doesn't have a canon maiden name, or at least, we've not found a reputable source for it. So for this story, we chose 'Bemelmans' after Ludwig Bemelmans, author of the famous children's book series Madeline.

As a heads up, the next update will be shorter than normal.

* * *

**Bio**: Wesley 'Wes' Weston  


Wes is the second backgroundie used in Duality, and easily the most important one. His role will be roughly on par with Jazz and/or Valerie and he will be treated like a canon character in this fic.

The character known as Wesley Weston was formed through the melding of 3 different ideas that became a runaway success on Tumblr.

1\. Someone pointed out that perhaps the reason Danny Fenton gets away with Clark Kent-ing his secret identity was because there were other people who look like Phantom. A screenshot of a lankly red headed boy with a "2" basketball uniform was attached. Tumblr figured these people don't like getting mistaken for Phantom.

2\. Another person thought that there was probably this _one_ person in Amity Park who has the observational skills of a normal human being and could make the connection that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton were the same person.

3\. "Who the heck is Wes?" Sam's mistake with the 'Wes' ring Danny got from his Dad.

Combine the three, and Wes is best described as an exasperated basketball-playing kid of normal intelligence and observation skills, cursed to live in a land of morons (or in other words he's teenage Squidward). Wes is able to make the connection that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton look the same, talk the same, one disappears, the other appears. He unfortunately regularly fails to convince his peers of this seemingly stupidly simple fact. Explanations fail. Charts don't help. Showing photographs side by side only make people question why he has those photos in the first place. The fact that he's physically built similar to Danny with the exception of red/orange hair causes some to suspect that he is in fact Phantom and trying to hide his identity by offloading it on Danny. Wes is not endeared by this. He appears in season 1 during a basketball game with a "2" Jersey. Another backgroundie was selected to be his father. A mom was never selected, leading to the popular yet bittersweet theory that his mom died and was the bread winner of the family.

Wes will remain mostly unchanged from his Tumblr conception, and the lack of 'halfa's in this story won't slow him down. While he doesn't 'like' Danny, and will do what he can to get in his way, he can hardly be described as a villain. We think you'll really enjoy his story once it kicks in. You can search him on Tumblr with the tags "Wes Weston" and "Wesley Weston".


	4. Mother

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

Drabble: Mother

* * *

"_Heh, don't be silly. __I don't have a mom.__"_

* * *

A common theme for engaging with the paranormal is that the conditions have to be 'just right'. The planets must be in alignment, the moon must be directly overhead, the sun must touch the horizon, the diagrams in the magic circle must be drawn exactly, et cetera… The fact that similar stipulations exist in all facets of civilization through time is not in dispute.

However, the fact remains that even when specified conditions are met, the possibility of engaging with the paranormal is not guaranteed. It is for this reason that anything remotely related to ghosts has been discarded by the scientific community. Perhaps it is rightfully so, as historically most 'successes' in the field have been performed by scam artists, or ambiguities in the conditions favor mundane explanations.

And yet, for same reasons the community disregards para-science, we take meteorology as gospel. Under the right conditions, for instance, distance from the equator, the Earth's axis pointing away from the sun (i.e. winter), cloud coverage, and temperatures approximating or below 0º C, you have conditions conducive to a snow storm. But conditions for a snow storm do not guarantee a snow storm, and even when they do, the results can vary from light flurries to a blizzard.

In the same way that the weather is apparently random and yet can be projected, so can gateways to another dimension. Over the past six months, we have on four separate occasions successfully anticipated where a naturally-occurring portal to the colloquially termed underworld would manifest. Of these four, only the first was human-sized. The remaining three were little more than hairline fractures in our dimension. All closed within moments of their creation with no lasting sign that they existed in the first place.

Anticipating where a hole in reality will form is a difficult and time-consuming, but not altogether impossible task. Holding one open is also something we have succeeded in doing, as our college thesis proves that inserting foreign material which we have named "ectoranium" into the hole prevents closure. In effect, we have successfully inserted an doorstop in a self-locking door. However, the practical applications of a stable quantum-sized hole are practically nonexistent. Despite our best efforts, we cannot enlarge the portal beyond the size of a large marble. We hypothesize this is because a stable portal is limited by the size that it manifests as.

If you approve our proposal to build a stable portal of roughly one meter in diameter, in addition to funding and the included list of equipment and materials, we will require unmitigated access to one of your labs, specifically, the ground floor botany lab in the west wing (the one built over the former grounds of an 18th century chapel).

-Proposal to Axion Labs submitted by Jack Fenton, Madeleine Bemelmans, and Vlad Plasmius

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Ghosts were fundamentally different from humans. It was an irrefutable fact. The fact that most ghosts had once been humans didn't matter – ectoplasm was funny stuff, and ghosts didn't think the same way humans did.

That's why Daniel could still remember the day he'd first seen his dad, though his ghost form wasn't even as developed as a toddler's yet. He'd been floating aimlessly through the softly glowing curls of ectoplasm in a fairly empty corner of the Ghost Zone shortly after his creation when some of the ectoplasm had started to pull itself together, strands weaving to form a blob, tensing and tightening to reveal a figure. Two arms, two legs, a head – all the things most human-originated ghosts had. The new ghost was wearing mostly white, but his skin was blue and his hair was black, and when he opened his eyes Daniel saw they were red.

For a moment the new ghost looked around in confusion (or seemed to – he didn't have any pupils, so it was hard to tell). But then his gaze landed on Daniel.

In an instant, Daniel felt himself being grasped by the new ghost's arms, and they were soft and gentle but so strong.

"Daniel? Is that you?" the new ghost asked, pulling out of the hug to scan Danny's face, checking the similarities between the lifeless form he'd seen in the human world and the new, glowing, slightly green face in front of him. He found them so quickly – the nose, the shape of the eyes, everything familiar, if a bit softer, a bit less defined.

Daniel tilted his head to the side to see the new ghost from another angle. This one was strange. The few ghosts he'd met in the short time he'd been in the Ghost Zone hadn't given him a second look, much less talked to him. Why was this one acting differently?

"Oh, Daniel," the new ghost said, hugging him again. "I'm your father."

* * *

It had been a while before Daniel had asked. Most ghosts he knew didn't have any parents, but he'd been talking to some of the newer ones like Youngblood that still remembered the human world, and he was curious.

So one day he floated down the stairs of the lair to his father's lab. His father was leaning heavily on a desk covered with diagrams and projections. There was almost as much paper on his desk as there was sitting crumpled on the floor.

The boy asked aloud, "Dad, do I have a mom?"

His father startled fell backwards off his chair, but relaxed when he saw it was just Daniel.

"Why, of course you do, son. Everyone has a mom," he replied.

"But then where is she?"

"She's still in the human world right now, Daniel. But don't worry, one day soon she'll be here, and our family will be whole again."

"Okay," Daniel said, and promptly put it out of his mind.

* * *

The experiments his dad was doing in the basement made Daniel uneasy. More than once something had exploded down there, often followed by cursing from Dad that he didn't have the resources of his former associates, whoever those were.

The ghost boy was seven now, or maybe eight, and starting to think for himself. He wanted his dad to do things with him, like explore the Ghost Zone or play games, but most of the time Dad was shut up in the basement, fixing together pieces of metal and other things he got from Technus. Danny was bored.

So one day he decided to go down into the lab again.

He floated his way down the stairs quietly, any noise he did make drowned out by the roar of the hot but narrow beam of fire his dad was shooting out of his finger and using to melt two pieces of metal together. Daniel floated in place to watch for a moment. His dad seemed to be building some kind of big ring, big enough for even Skulker to fit through.

"What are you building?" Daniel asked as soon as the noise had died down.

His dad wasn't surprised this time – he'd gotten used to Daniel coming into the lab.

"I'm building a portal," he answered. "If it works, we'll be able to go back to the human world, where your mom is. We'll be able to bring her here."

"Really?" Daniel asked, excited. It had been so long since Daniel had last asked about his mother, but recently he'd been thinking of her again. He was excited about the chance to meet her, to find out what she was like, what it was like to have two parents.

"Yes," his dad answered, smiling. "Just be a good boy and try not to interrupt me, and we'll both get to see her again soon."

* * *

Danny was eleven when the portal was finished. His dad had been so proud when he led Daniel down into the basement and revealed the metallic arch.

Daniel was unimpressed by the simple object.

"My mom is through there?" he asked disbelieving, floating forwards as if to pass through the portal without realizing it.

"She is," his dad answered, gently resting a hand on Daniel's shoulder to hold him in place.

"And now I'll get to meet her?"

"You will. Once the portal manifests here."

"Now?"

"Soon," his dad said, floating lower until his eyes were level with his Daniel's. "In fact, any second now…"

"Okay," he said, smiling.

Vlad looks at his watch, and then counted down with his fingers.

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

A man-sized portal formed in the basement lair. However, the man in question was the giant American folk tale legend Paul Bunyan, not Vlad Plasmius. The gateway shattered outward, with Plasmius belatedly shielding his son and himself from the shrapnel with an ethereal shield.

Years of projections were smashed in an instant. The stable hole was reduced to a natural, short-lasting one. Without a moment to lose, Vlad dove into the portal and it closed almost immediately after him…

…leaving young Daniel Plasmius alone in the war-torn laboratory.

* * *

He was gone for almost a week.

Having nothing else to do, Daniel waited.

Oh, he certainly entertained the idea of rebuilding the gateway his father had constructed, but one glance at his father's notes told him that was a dead end. Even if he did have an understanding of the advanced metaphysics involved, which he certainly didn't, there was the issue that his father's handwriting was utterly illegible. To further add to the issue, several fragments of the portal, including the largest, had embedded themselves in the floor, walls, and ceiling of the lab. Whatever the portal had been constructed from, or exposed to, resisted Daniel's phasing abilities.

In short, there was little else Daniel _could_ do but wait.

He wasn't alone for the whole period. Several ghosts that Daniel had recognized as _associates,_ as his father had once put it, had visited. Skulker was the first and most frequent visitor. His interactions with Daniel were curt, short, and generally circled around a payment or delivery of some sort. Empathy wasn't a word in his dictionary.

Technus's visit was by far the longest. Whatever the reason for his visit had been immediately discarded for the prospect of him repairing the portal. Technus agreed, but the moment he discovered the replica of an ancient telegraph in his father's office, it was all over. This "hip new method of advanced communication" was all he could concern himself with. When he finally left, it was with aims of stringing wire to every ghost's lair and install one of those devices. The fact that no one knew Morse code or would even want to learn it, including Technus, did not deter him.

And then Ember visited…

"_Your life goes on without me. My life, a losing game. But you should, you should not doubt me. You will remember my name," _the ex-pop star sang as she strummed away on her guitar on the couch.

Ember wasn't one of the people his father chose to deal with, and normally upon discovery she would have been immediately turned away. Her reasons to visit normally had something to do with tracking down Skulker for one reason or another. Vengeance over a broken guitar being the go-to excuse.

But the pervasive loneliness was getting to Daniel, and rather than shoo her away, he'd insisted she stay. After initially (and futilely) attempting to kick him off her leg, she eventually gave in… on one condition. She got to decide how they spent their time together, and there was only one thing Ember ever wanted.

"_Oh, Ember, you will remember. Ember, one thing remains. Oh, Ember, so warm and tender. You will remember my name."_

Daniel sang along to the only song Ember seemed to know, or at least, the only song she ever played. He didn't care. It dulled the sensations of solitude and doubt he felt.

Singing along, however, fed into her obsession, and her blue flaming hair grew to flare with intensity. Even from where Daniel was seated, he could feel the radiant heat.

"_Your heart, your heart has mended. You're wrong, now bear the shame. Like dead trees in cold December, nothing but ashes remain."_

The further into the song they got, the fiercer the blaze on Ember's hair became. The flames seemed to bounce in tune with the beat. But at some point, the simple pleasure of enjoying her company was negated by the ever increasing heat from the musician. So Daniel ceased to sing along, thinking that would dull her obsession, and in consequence, her hair.

"_Oh, Ember, you will remember. Ember, one thing remains. Oh, Ember, so warm and tender. You will remember my name."_

Ember continued to sing and strum, and yet the heat didn't dissipate.

… If anything, it got _worse_.

The young ghost was no longer paying attention to Ember or her song. Instead he uncomfortably shifted around in an attempt to discretely shield himself from the burning. There was no appreciable consequence.

It was hot; It was getting _hotter_; And then it became too _HOT._

Daniel _screamed_.

The room felt like an inferno, and it was no longer possible to — Wait, smoke? Holy! He was _burning_! Green embers formed on his surface. Daniel flew around the room and rolled on the ceiling in a wasted attempt to put himself out.

Everything was a blur. He couldn't think. His whole world was just burns and burning.

It was only after Daniel was splashed with a bucket of water was he aware, in the most cursory part of his mind, that Ember was no longer playing her song. Had he paid her any mind, he would've noticed that she was wrought with concern, and that her hair was back to its normal flame.

But he did not… the pain was everything and everywhere and sucked at all his focus.

"DANIEL!" shouted a new voice.

Powerful arms held onto him, and almost immediately, the widespread embers extinguished themselves leaving behind smoldering wounds that would not immediately heal over.

Plasmius turned to Ember and ordered, "Get out."

Ember, confused and helpless, protested, "But I didn-"

"GET OUT!" Plasmius repeated in a shout.

It was perhaps the quickest _exit stage left_ Ember had ever performed. She snatched her guitar and then was gone.

When Daniel had recovered enough to take in his surroundings, he was surprised to see his father looking over him. Surprised for two reasons. The fact that his father was back, and more so, the fact that he was alone.

Hadn't that been the whole point of the trip? Hadn't his dad gone to get his mom and bring her here?

Before Daniel could say anything, his father turned towards the lab. He gathered a huge orb of pink ecto-energy in his hand and then sent it flying. The lab erupted in an inferno of deadly pink flames

"Dad?" Daniel asked confused and alarmed. "What's going on? Where's mom? Ember didn't mean-"

His dad was silent for a moment, and when he turned around Daniel could see that he was sad. He floated towards his son gently, then hugged him in a way he hadn't since the two had first found each other.

Daniel was even more confused now, but before long, his dad pulled out of the hug, gently holding onto Daniel's shoulders instead.

"Daniel, listen to me," he said, and his voice was very serious. "Your mother isn't coming."

"Why not?" Daniel asked, surprised and outraged.

"Because . . . " his dad paused. Daniel was taken aback – was his dad crying? His dad never cried!

"Because," he continued. "You don't have a mom. I'm just glad you're alright."

"Ember didn't mean t-" Daniel insisted.

"Ember?" Plasmius asked, momentarily confused, before realizing what Daniel meant. So he clarified what had actually happened to Daniel, and the nature of obsessions… but he never did explain what happened in his absence or how he got back.

Since that day, Daniel made sure to keep his father close, not wanting to repeat the day's event.

* * *

Daniel tried to bring up his mom for a while after that. For the first two months, everything was okay. He would ask, and his dad would tell him that he didn't have a mom, that he never had. He'd only ever had a father. That would be the end of the conversation, and in a week or two Daniel would ask again. Daniel began to doubt himself, to wonder if he'd ever really had a mother. He was sure that his father had told him he did, but every time he asked he was told he didn't. It was confusing.

And then one day Daniel asked and his father snapped.

"Daniel! How many times do I have to tell you this! YOU! DO! NOT! HAVE! A! MOTHER!"

Daniel had gotten upset and flown over to Ember's lair because he didn't want to be in the same place as his father anymore. His father _never_ yelled at him before, and when he did, it was – scary.

Less than an hour later, his dad had shown up and apologized for yelling. Daniel had looked up at him, and he looked different. This wasn't the angry ghost yelling at him who wanted to hurt him. This was his dad.

Daniel forgave him.

And he never believed that he had a mother again.

* * *

_Dvoo . . . nzbyv mlg mvevi . . ._


	5. Reunion

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

Reunion

* * *

_It's like I don't even know my family anymore._

_-Excerpt from Jazz's Journal_

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"_Honey, I'm ~hooooome!~"_

Danny stood in front of the control panel, his mouth agape, staring at the intruder from the ghost portal. Blue, frosty air flowed from his mouth, making his vision go a bit hazy, but it wasn't enough to obscure the familiar features of the ghost in front of him.

Vlad Plasmius.

His _father_.

Well, there went any and all plans of sneaking home and feigning ignorance. Not that you could feign ignorance after having been away for a week… not to mention Skulker was guaranteed to have had a word with his employer.

Oh, who was he kidding in the first place? He was screwed no matter what he did.

Vlad turned and took in the room, looking vaguely disappointed. He poked the mechanical endoskeleton and sighed. He seemed… curiously benign for a man who recently sent a war machine out to retrieve him. (The skeleton of which was currently on display no less.)

Danny hadn't realized his hand had brushed a ratchet until it tumbled off the control panel and clattered on the floor. He blanched.

Then Vlad turned and seemingly took in the presence of his son for the first time.

Danny prepared for the worst and cringed. Dad wasn't especially known for the diplomatic type of discipline, unless diplomacy meant a lot of screaming at the top of your lungs.

And cringed…

And waited…

After a moment of nothing continuing to happen, he cautiously opened his eyes.

Vlad's face was _directly_ in his.

"Boo."

Whatever Danny was expecting, it wasn't that. He jumped, but more from the sudden lack of personal space than from the half-hearted scare tactic.

Vlad chuckled lightly.

"You're having a nightmare, kid. Go back to bed." Then he sniffed the air and scrunched his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. "Better yet, go take a shower, _then_ go back to bed. You reek."

Danny blinked, raised an arm, sniffed his armpit, then glared. He didn't think he smelled _that_ bad. And hey! He'd showered after practice!

Vlad muttered something like 'strange smelly badger' before turning to a large chrome-plated machine, and he… puffed his hair while staring at his reflection? He sprayed something into his mouth, gave himself a devilish grin, and tugged on his outfit.

Vlad clicked his tongue and shot both his pointer fingers at his reflection.

"You still got it, ya handsome charmer you," he said to no one in particular.

He turned and strutted away from his makeshift mirror when he was suddenly reminded of Danny's continued existence by point of him still being in the room and staring at him.

"You saw nothing, kid," he warned, then drifted up and through the ceiling.

A moment passed. Danny slunk down and leaned on the floor against the portal's control panel.

'_Kid'? Did Dad not recognize me? Why…_

Danny caught himself staring at his hands and then face palmed.

_Well duh, of course he wouldn't recognize me in this form_…

What was he supposed to make of the encounter? Should he try to sneak back home and hope Dad would continue to be so blinded that he didn't notice? Or was that no longer an option since Dad was here and not there?

He didn't have the time to debate further. Whatever Dad was up to, it got the attention of the Fentons. It sounded like it was coming from the master bedroom.

"GHOST!"

"Who? What? GHOST!"

In the span of a few seconds, several things happened at once. A klaxon began blaring at regular intervals. The normal white lights of the lab turned off and were replaced by ominous red ones. The portal shut down and closed of its own accord. A wall panel that Danny never really gave any notice to in the past flipped 180º to reveal an ectogun and other equipment he couldn't quite identify. And finally, a display lit up next to him that read "Fenton Works Ghost Shield: Activated".

There were home security systems… and then there were Fenton home security systems. One of the Fentons must've hit the alarm after spotting Dad.

Through the open door from the lab to upstairs, Danny could see the reflection of green lights flash against the wall from weapons' discharge. A particularly bright flash heralded Vlad's frantic return through said open doorway. He was certainly looking worse for wear. His pristine outfit was littered with scorch marks and his frazzled hair was accented by a small flame. He slammed the door behind him.

Danny detachedly wondered if he forgot he could go through walls and floors? Or was this an aspect of the ghost shield?

Vlad charged down the stairs, Danny's continued presence long since forgotten, and made a mad break for the ghost portal. Rather than phase through it, he collided with the large metal door. It surprised Danny, but perhaps not as much as it surprised Vlad, who stumbled backwards, disoriented. Vlad drunkenly collided with a workstation while clutching his aching face. This knocked a bunch of tools and parts from Skulker's suit onto the floor, but, more pressingly, a green thermos was among those items knocked down. It became uncapped and a brilliant beam of blue light violently shot out.

Danny turned away and covered his eyes with his arms to defend against the blinding illumination. He turned back only in time to see his Dad being pulled against his will into the all-too-small container.

"Dad!? DAAAAAAAD!"

As if summoned, the door to the lab was kicked open by Jack, who was clutching a mean-looking ecto-gun and was clad in his normal orange Hazmat suit, decorated with an out-of-place night cap perched on his head.

"Danny!? Are you alright? Did you spot the ghost?" Jack asked all at once.

Danny crossed his arms behind his back and gave his best convincing grin. Said grin would probably be more in place on a driver's license or a mug shot than a school yearbook.

"Huh? Oh, uh… the ghost _was_ here… then uh… then he left. If you hurry you might still catch him." Danny then nervously looked at the thermos out of the corner of his eye and nonchalantly kicked it under one of the tables without ever fully breaking eye contact. He widened his grin.

"Right-o Danny-o! Good eye." Jack moved to give to chase after the imaginary charge when a question dawned on him. "Uh… which way did he go?"

"I… uh… he went… err…" Danny cursed himself for not thinking this through. "He went that way?" Danny pointed his thumb blindly over his shoulder.

"He went through the ghost portal?" Jack asked confused.

"Um… er… yes?"

"But the portal doesn't work."

"…It doesn't?"

"It doesn't. Also the door is closed."

"… Oh. Um… yeah…"

"Danny are you… hiding something? What're you even doing in the lab in the first place?"

Danny's eyes betrayed him as he stole a glance at the innocuous thermos. Dammit. He was a terrible liar. Of all the time for Jack to act like the genius he allegedly was…

Danny was in motion before his thoughts caught up with him. His hand slammed on the open button for the portal. The octagonal door jolted and hissed before lazily opening. The green swirling vortex illuminated the lab and clashed harshly with the still flashing red intruder lights. He swept down, grabbed the thermos, and charged for the slowly parting doors.

He wasn't fast enough.

Powerful hands lifted him off the ground.

"Woah, son. Where do you think you're going?" Jack asked, but before Danny could think of a convincing lie, Jack called out, "Hey, Mads!"

The woman in the teal Hazmat suit and red goggles appeared at the top of the stairwell.

"What is it, Jack? Did you find the ghost? I've almost got the upper floors secured." Then she saw what was going on and her mouth dropped open.

"Seems Dan-o's been keeping secrets from us." Jack replied.

Bile collected in Danny's borrowed throat. He hated this. He hated being caught. He hated lying. He hated deceiving the Fentons so long. He hated failing to save his dad.

_All good things must come to an end… _he thought. He sighed, "You've caught me…" _Literally. _

Maddie gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth. "Danny… how _could_ you?"

"I… I didn't mean to deceive you…" It was getting harder to speak. "I mean I did anyways but-" he sniffled.

But to his surprise, Jack put Danny back down and patted him on the head.

"You did your old folks proud." Jack beamed as he stepped forward past Danny.

Danny mentally blanked. This wasn't the expected reaction to _I lied and replaced your son_.

"I did?"

"Sure you did!" Jack spread his arms wide as if inviting the open portal in. "I don't know how you did it… but you fixed the portal!"

"Our little boy's taking a serious interest in the family business!" Maddie said as she embraced Danny in a tight squeeze.

_I fixed it? _

Sam and Tucker didn't mention it was broken. It certainly didn't _act_ broken.

"Now…" Jack turned around. His voice was a lot less jolly. "We don't know what's beyond the vortex."

"It's most likely very hostile to life, if that ghost we just saw was any indication."

_You don't know the half of it._

Jack eyed the thermos still in Danny's hand. "I know you're eager to catch your first ghost, but let's save that for later. Why don't you head on up to bed, Dan-o?"

"Uh, sure…" Danny released himself from Maddie's embrace and headed back up the stairs. He was careful to keep the thermos casually outside of their field of vision as he ascended. It's not like it was a real secret that he still held it, but he didn't need it as a visual reminded to encourage the scientists to get him to leave it behind. He couldn't quite make out what Jack and Maddie were saying, but they seemed to be excited about the prospects of the portal or advancements or something.

To be honest, it was the furthest thing from his thoughts.

He entered his room and closed the door. As an afterthought, he pushed in the lock. It probably wouldn't do any good. If Maddie and Jack wanted to enter, they most certainly would. They may not be able to phase though like ghosts could, but they certainly treated physical barriers like paper when they were of a certain mind. It might buy him a second or two if it came to it, at least.

He sat on the bed and turned the sci-fi soup container over and over. Was his father still in it? Despite the intimidating appearance, there were only a handful of single purpose buttons on the thermos. Danny gingerly hit the 'release' button.

Danny held in the relief he felt when his father reformed as he exited the thermos.

"Who, what, where? Oh… it's the smelly badger…" As quickly as you could blink Vlad went from raw panic to dejected disappointment and slumped to the ground.

_Sure I play sports, but, seriously, I do _not_ smell that bad._

Vlad seemed to forget that Danny was still in the room and started mumbling to himself. After a continued awkward… _whatever_ this was Danny made an audible 'clearing of the throat' noise.

"Go away kid. I don't have time for you or your games." Vlad dismissed with a hand wave.

"Nice to see you too, _Dad."_

The vampire-like ghost slowly looked up from his slump.

"…Daniel?"

"In the flesh!" _Oh man, I've got to write that one down._ Danny thought, pleased at his latest in punnery.

Vlad turned his head sideways, as if he were looking at a pig that had decided to grow a second head out of nothing more than hard work, determination and copious amounts of Elmer's glue.

"… _This_ is the body you went with?"

Danny was about to voice protest, it wasn't like he 'chose' this body in the first place, and seriously what was wrong with it? Well… _besides_ the smell he kept complaining about.

But before he could voice any of that, Vlad beat him to opening his mouth and stood taller and glowered over him.

"So why haven't you come home young man?"

"Ah… that was the um… I'm kind of… trapped in this body."

"Trapped? But… how… why here?"

"As in I-wait what?"

But without warning, Vlad's face softened as if he were processing something… "But wait… no… but that makes too much sense… But how could you possibly know?"

Danny lifted a finger upward, "Uh…"

"No… no you couldn't… But the chances are astronomical…"

"Err… mind including me in this conversation?" Danny interrupted.

Vlad blinked as if acknowledging Danny's existence for the first time… which would make it the 3rd first time in the past twenty minutes at least.

"So… what do you think?" Vlad clapped his hands together and rubbed them rapidly in anticipation.

"… Of?"

"Your mother."

"… My _what_?" Danny couldn't and wouldn't hold back the raised eyebrow that screamed to reach for the heavens.

"Your mother… Maddie Plasmius." Vlad's brow darkened. "Though I suppose it's Fenton now."

"… But I don't have a mother?" The words came out as in reply to someone who attested that the sky is, was, and always had been made of, not air, but velvet cake.

"You mean to tell me you've been hiding here for an entire week and didn't realize whose household you were living in? But that's not…" Vlad rapidly devolved to muttering animatedly to himself. "But if Madeline won't… but Jack…"

"So uh… are we going home then?" Danny asked, long since lost interest in his father's inane monologues.

"Home? Oh no no no noooo… why would we ever go back to that dump?"

Danny raised an eyebrow, "So… this means I _don't _have to clean my room?"

"Daniel, _focus_. We can take your situation and turn it to our advantage. You, me: We've got ourselves a second shot at life. Well… first in your case, I suppose. But listen-" Vlad got down in a kneeling position and clapped his hands on Danny's shoulders. "I'll be the first to admit, I haven't necessarily been the best father. But now… now we can live the life we were cheated out of. You, me, Maddie: a family."

Danny paused taking it all in. "You crazy old fruit loop. Not ten minutes ago, 'Maddie' pulled the alarms on you and was trying to fill that spot where your brain is supposed to be full of ecto-blast. It's beyond premature thinking you can restart your family. This is counting your chickens after you've dumped their eggs on the floor and shot them with an automatic rifle for good measure. Besides… aren't you forgetting that she's… you know… already married?"

Vlad muttered something under his breath like 'it was actually Jack who pulled the alarm' but couldn't actually be brought to contradict the other half. But aloud he said, "You just leave Jack to me. Nothing a little possession won't fix."

Vlad turned to leave through the wall before a thought occurred to him, "Oh, and take a shower first thing."

Danny gave the ghost a look that could only be described as the universal teen expression of '_seriously?'._

_Wait… possess Jack?_

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"_Good morning Illinois! I'm Chet Ubetcha saying 'My face sure is immaculate'. But seeing as my _boss_ won't let me fill an hour talking about me, I'm left talking about less awesome news. For instance, election season is kicking off early this year with Amity Park's incumbent mayor Montez having announced his intent to be re-elected. Since then, rival parties have begun assembling their candidates." _

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

It was 5:00 a.m. when Jazz pulled herself out of bed. Normally she'd blame her complete lack of sleep on the antics of her parents. And… well it'd be true this day too, she supposed. Though this time it wasn't necessarily related to the alarms and lights going off at 1:00 a.m., not that those had helped any.

What could she do? Her step-dad and half-brother were dead. Her mom may or may not have orchestrated said deaths. And to top it off, both her biological parents and step dad had once worked at a company shady enough to have a sting operation held against it.

Maybe it wasn't Mom who killed Vlad… maybe it was corporate sabotage?

Somehow the idea didn't make Jazz feel any better. She exited her room and stopped in front of the bathroom. She could hear the shower running and her brother inside loudly yet unintelligibly complaining to himself. Perhaps she was too tired to make any sense of it, but it sounded like he was aiming to spite someone with shampoo.

She shook her head and turned back down the hall. It was perhaps the most _normal_ abnormal thing her brother had done lately.

"Mm… brother's mental health or parental mystery conspiracy?" Jazz asked herself out loud, wondering which project to work on today.

The rational part of her mind wanted to tell her, or at least _would've_ told her, that one of those options was preventing her from sleeping, the other one wasn't. But the rational part of her mind was on strike and would not show up for work until the union's demands were fulfilled. Said demands being either a full night's rest with interest or a high caffeine beverage with penalties. Her rational side was a hypocrite, a lawyer, and a terrorist.

Thankfully, her stomach was still accepting and making calls, and made it very vocal that it wanted the results of breakfast on its desk in 10 minutes and the report on lunch by noon.

More than slightly put off that she was hallucinating personas for her dispositions and organs, Jazz left the hallway and descended the stairs to the kitchen.

Her nose caught a confusing whiff of something from said room and the hairs on her neck stood up. Danny was still showering, which meant he hadn't made it to the kitchen yet. Which meant either Mom or Dad were 'cooking'—the word cooking being used in the loosest sense of the term. She paused to take a deep, calming breath before bravely marching into the kitchen.

It's truly hard to say what Jazz expected to see, but grits, hash browns, eggs, toast, orange juice, and fresh cantaloupe neatly arranged on the counter were so far removed from that idea that her mind was having trouble processing what was in front of her. None of it was even staring back at her. It was all just a perfectly normal, healthy-ish breakfast. Jazz poked one of the plates experimentally, half-expecting it to snap back.

"So when's a good time for you? … Yes, a Friday appointment works for us. … We'll be there." Jack spoke into the phone on his neck as he used both hands to prepare breakfast, seemingly unaware of Jazz's presence.

It was then that Maddie walked into the kitchen, clad in a teal bathrobe with black cuffs. Jazz idly wondered if her mom gad ever worn any other color combinations in her life. "Hey Jack, we're not out of shampoo are we? I can't seem to find a bottle anywh… What the?"

"Ah, good-morning my dearest Maddie." Jack called from the stove hanging the phone up. "And… my _daughter_ too?" He seemed uncharacteristically caught off guard by Jazz's presence. Or at least, that _would_ be Jazz's prognosis if this were anyone _but_ her father.

Maddie went to sit at the table. Jack rushed over and pulled her chair out for her and pushed it back in for her. Then he turned back to serve her a generous breakfast. He daintily added a twig of parsley as the finishing touch to her plate.

Maddie held in a giggle.

"Jack, what's gotten into you?"

Jack gave a knowing grin.

"Let's just say I haven't felt this _alive_ in a long, long time."

"Heh, well… but I thought we were going to try ecto-sample DS-9 on breakfast today."

Jack stammered, "Uh… well I…"

Jazz leaned outside of Maddie's field of vision and rapidly waved her arms 'NO!' with widened desperate eyes.

Jack apparently got the message. "Oh… umm… that batch was a total failure…"

Jazz didn't know what parasitic alien life form had taken control of her father, but it was welcome to come and abduct half the people in her life, she thought.

"It's not fit for… for…" Jack repeated himself a few more times and scrunched his nose.

_So much for normalit-_

She smelled him before she saw him. No, smelled was _far_ too weak a word to describe the sensation. Jazz's eyes watered painfully and her straight red hair curled upwards in random patches. The fetid odor was just overpoweringly nauseating. It reeked of coconut and pineapple, of citrus and granny smith, of mint and pine.

Jazz pulled the front of her shirt over her nose. Jack coughed into his napkin. Maddie looked like a toy robot that was stuck in a reboot loop.

In the doorway, Danny stood, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and one of the lab's full face gas masks, still dripping with water. The large opaque glass eye windows had a vague green tint to them.

"The shower's free." Danny offered nonchalantly, or at least that was how he looked like he was trying to pass off. The mask's air filter made his voice sound vaguely threatening and deeper than normal.

"Daniel!" Jack coughed, "What the-!?"

"Oh you like it?" Danny replied with smug sarcasm through the filter in the mask, "You know, I thought long and hard about what you said last night… about my…" Danny leaned in and turned his head left and right as if he were about to say something _dirty, _and yet said it out loud for all to hear_, "…_my _odor_. And I decided to take it to heart. In fact, you could even say this is a new _clean state _for me_._"

Jazz never once wondered how anyone could sound intimidating while incessantly smirking and snorting juvenilely at his own puns. Jazz now had the answer to the question she never wanted. It was clearly the air filter.

"Daniel," Jack wheezed, "How much shampoo did you use?"

"All of it."

"You used a _whole bottle?!"_

"No. Of course not."

"Then how in the nine layers of h-"

"I used ALL the bottles of shampoo."

"You… _what?"_

"Not _just_ the shampoo though." Danny counted out each finger with the opposite hand as he uncurled them, "I went through the house and grabbed _**ALL**_ the conditioners, deodorants, perfumes, soaps, _detergents…"_

"But WHY?" Jack asked/demanded.

Danny cupped his hands over his mouth in a mock 'speak no evil' pose, which in practice meant his hands were wrapped over the filter.

"But! But _Dad_, after all the concern you voiced over my B.O., how could I _possibly _risk not doing a thorough job?"

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The age-old question 'What do you use to clean up soap?' would remain unanswered. Rolling around in mud wasn't an option since you'd still need to clean it up after, and as established, they were out of soap. Maddie, when she regained her senses, had the unconventional idea that Hazmat suits are insulated to protect from outside contamination, so they should protect the outside from whatever is inside. And that's how Danny found himself wearing two layers of Hazmat suits and a fishbowl helmet to school.

_Totally worth it._

Maybe tomorrow he'd go dumpster diving. _Just_ to see how his father's face contrasted with his reaction to this morning's smell.

* * *

Gsv hsirmp droo orv zylfg gzprmt xszmtvh, nzprmt nrhgzpvh, zmw tvggrmt nvhhb.


	6. Estrangement

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

Estrangement

* * *

_We're sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service at this time. This is a recording._

Jazz was slumped on one of the cozy chairs in the library beside the newspaper rack. Her exhaustion from her sleepless night was finally catching up to her. The redhead's arms dangled over the sides of the chair in abject defeat. Her right hand clutched her cellphone loosely as it repeated the phone company's intercept message.

"Technically, cellphones aren't allowed to be used during school hours," Spike offered in his usual dry monotone, never taking his eyes off his Algebra homework from the nearby table.

"It's hard to be called out for it if you never get to utter 'hello' in the first place." Jazz countered and sighed again.

Spike merely scribbled his factoring problems in silent reply.

Jazz had tried to call Aunt Alicia, the only living witness to the disaster that claimed her Mom's late family. Jazz didn't quite trust her mom, not on this topic at least. But either Alicia's phone line was simply disconnected, or she had moved unannounced… _again_. But whatever the truth of the matter was, Jazz's aunt was unreachable.

"And it's not like she shows up for Thanksgiving or Christmas…" Jazz thought aloud.

Aunt Alicia was the sort of person who you didn't contact; she contacted you 'when she damn well felt like it' to paraphrase an argument from a fairly strained family reunion. There weren't really any not-strained reunions with Alicia.

"If I can't get my answers from Arkansas… then I guess all the answers are in Wisconsin."

Jazz got up out of the chair and marched over to the internet terminals, her legs already a few steps ahead of her thoughts. She took a mental inventory of her bank account. She certainly had a decent amount of money saved up, though it was supposed to be used for college tuition after she graduated. There was the issue of how to get away from the house long enough, of course, but…

She reached the desk and sat side-saddle next to the keyboard of the underclassman who was using it.

"…Yes?" Tucker asked cautiously confused by the confrontation.

"You're good with computers and such, right?" Jazz asked innocently.

"… I'd _like_ to think so…" Tucker replied as neutrally as he could, not trusting where the conversation was going.

"Tucker, do you remember in the 4th grade when you lost my brother's authentic moon rock and he was threatening to end your friendship until I 'confessed' I was the one who misplaced it?" She didn't wait for him to respond. "Well, I'm calling in a favor…"

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"Ah, Ms. Manson. Please, do come in."

Sam cautiously closed the door to Coach Huddle's office and took a seat.

"I thought I should let you know… Greer is off the team."

Sam shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She didn't regret for a moment telling Greer off the other day. But this was the first time being called in private.

"Manson… if you don't mind my asking: Why are you here?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Huddle took a deep breath and sighed, "You're dealing with an inordinate amount of pressure for joining the team. And I honestly respect you sticking through it."

Sam's brow furrowed.

"Is this some prelude to asking me to quit the team? Because you and I BOTH know that Johnston is a wors-"

Coach Huddle lifted up a finger to Sam in a muting position as he reached down into his desk. "Hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it."

Huddle pulled out a water bottle and a small box of over-the-counter stress medication. He popped two pills and took a couple of swigs of water. He wiped his mouth. "Sorry. I need to watch my blood pressure. Now, you were saying about Johnston." His posture was the epitome of calm, but there was the distinct sound of teeth grinding when he said 'Johnston'.

"As I was saying… Johnston is a much less reliable player. If you're going to be asking anyone to leave it should be him." Sam finished.

"Number 1, I would like to think you could give me more credit than that. I've fought too hard for too long abroad to see the future of this nation tear itself apart on the inside over such a non-issue." Huddle had a far-off distant look. He shook his head before continuing, "But that's not why I called you here. Number 2, it is actually indirectly related to why I called you here."

Huddle turned the clipboard around and slid it to Sam. "We're down to 12 players. We need 11 on the field and at least one bench warmer. If we lose one more player… that's it. The season is over. Johnston is a clown, not a football player, but getting rid of him is not worth breaking the team up over."

"Are you trying to coerce me into shutting up when I'm getting harassed by these sexist pigs?"

"Manson, that's not it at all. And I _still_ want you to come to me when you feel you're being mistreated."

Sam made to open her mouth, but Huddle held a finger up to Sam in silence. "-And before you ask, I'm not going to change my policies just because the team is in a precarious position. If they can't be decent human beings then they don't deserve to play sports. But that's not what I'm trying to say." He brought the finger back down. "Listen, if someone gets sick on a game day, we're done. Someone gets injured, we're done. Someone's grades get too poor and they get pulled, we're done."

"Why are you telling me this if you," Sam made air quotes, "'say' you're not trying to get me to be quiet?"

"Because… I don't want what will happen to come as a surprise if and when we lose one more member," Huddle solemnly replied.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

In retrospect, coming to school in a full Hazmat suit was _not_ worth it.

By the time lunch had rolled around, he'd already lost the helmet—someone had snatched it off his head between third and fourth period and ran off before he could even see who it was. And of course, Dash and some of the other football players had been bullying him over the suit, though Danny noticed no one but Dash was overly malicious, and with some of the less popular players, it might have even been an attempt at friendly teasing.

Then Tucker discovered that Danny's sanitary field combated the known laws of gravity. Tucker spent the majority of lunch period seeing how many levitating spitballs he could amass over Danny's head. He got as far as nine before Danny swatted him and the spitballs away.

That was tolerable enough, but the Hazmat suit _also_ made the most annoying noises whenever he moved. Taking notes in class, walking in the halls, opening his locker—no matter what he did, Danny made squeaking noises as the fabric brushed against itself as he moved.

"Don't you have anything else to change into?" the dark-skinned girl who sat next to him in U.S. History asked as the teacher handed back tests. Valerie, her name was, though at this point Danny couldn't remember if he'd learned it himself or if it was part of the knowledge that he couldn't explain.

"It's more than a little annoying," she said.

Danny couldn't respond before the teacher reached them to hand back their tests.

"Wonderful work, Miss Gray," she said softly, slipping a sheet of paper on which Danny could make out a red letter A onto Valerie's desk. Then she turned to Danny.

Danny hadn't been here himself when the test was given but was still looking forward to receiving a good grade—after all, the boy he was possessing seemed to know a lot of things.

"Mr. Fenton, you'd better start studying now if you want to do well this year," the teacher told him, then slipped his test onto his desk. A red 'C' was written on the top of the page, with several questions marked in red ink for being wrong.

Danny stuffed the test into his binder, Hazmat squeaking as he did.

Oh, well. He hadn't even been the one to take the test.

So why was he disappointed at all?

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

One period after lunch came gym class, and Danny was _finally_ able to change out of the Hazmat suit and into his gym clothes. He still smelled like a flower garden hosting a farmer's market in the height of summer, but it was a bit more muted, and the smell was overwhelming rather than completely overpowering.

"Alright, everyone, dodgeball today!" shouted Mrs. Tetslaff, the gym teacher. Several of the boys from football practice, and a few others Danny had seen roaming the halls in sports jackets, let out whoops of joy. Dash's smile seemed almost frighteningly malicious, and Danny fought the urge to flinch when they locked eyes.

Everyone else had reactions ranging from apathy to terror. Danny wasn't exactly sure what dodgeball _was_, though 'his' memories were coming up with something about balls and running, but he wasn't sure how a school activity could have such mixed reactions.

"You all know the rules," Tetslaff bellowed, "but I'll go over them anyway, since _some_ of you always seem to forget." With this, she shot a glare at a small clump of students over her shoulder.

"You'll be split into groups, half on one side of the gym, half on the other. You can't cross the line between the two halves," Mrs. Tetslaff said, indicating the painted line that split the gym in half by stomping on it. "If you get hit by a ball, you're out. If you catch a ball, whoever threw it is out. Are we clear?"

There were various noises of assent, and Danny said a soft "Yes." Dodgeball seemed simple enough, and hey, maybe this would be kinda like football.

Mrs. Tetslaff began splitting them into teams, motioning them to one side of the gym or the other. Danny was pleasantly surprised to find a couple of guys from football practice on his side of the gym, and they exchanged friendly looks.

Then Mrs. Tetslaff laid five rubber balls out on the halfway line of the gym, evenly spaced. She walked over to the side, and blew her whistle so loud Danny's ears rang.

The gym went to hell.

Danny had seen full-on ghost fights that were less chaotic and violent than this. He was almost immediately caught up in a swarm of people rushing for the middle line, trying to grab one of the rubber balls. He could hear those who did crying out, and then...

The crowd dispersed, people running every which way, those who'd come away from the center line with balls trying to aim them, those who hadn't trying not to make themselves easy targets.

Danny watched as a skinny kid from his math class got nailed in the gut by a ball Dash threw and went down hard, wincing and rubbing at his stomach, before making his way to his feet and hobbling over to the side of the gym to stand with Mrs. Tetslaff.

Maybe he should start moving.

The problem, Danny thought as he started running, was that there was nowhere to go, really, no safe place to head to. There wasn't really any place to escape from the intermittent but painful-sounding balls hurling themselves to this side of the gym. Not without doing anything that would attract attention, at least.

Oh, well, the rest of the kids seemed to be able to wait this out, so he should, too.

And then he heard it. The soft whistle that 'his' memories told him was a dodgeball, coming in fast.

Danny instinctively flickered intangible, the ball passing through his head and bouncing to a stop on the gym floor.

Danny rushed over and picked it up. Ok, he'd gotten a ball, and he hadn't gotten hit. Now he had to throw it.

He ran towards the center of the gym, figuring he'd have a better view from there, and was pleased to see that he was correct. There were plenty of people on the other side of the gym that he could easily hit with the ball, without even tapping into his strength more than a tiny bit. But by far the most tempting was Dash, who was currently facing away from Danny to scoop up a ball.

Well, Dash hadn't been nice all day, and there was just something about the way he'd been treating Danny that rubbed him the wrong way. Better to hit someone for a reason, after all, right?

Danny launched the ball at Dash, but moments before it hit, another kid on that side of the gym ran by, and it ended up smacking into their leg. They promptly fell over, which knocked Dash over. As the kid limped off the field, Dash followed the path the ball must have taken to come so close to him, and found himself glaring at Danny, who offered a sheepish grin.

And thus began the dodgeball game to end all dodgeball games. It was chaos, it was confusion, it was headaches as students who had gotten hit screamed and cheered from the sidelines, and Wes kept trying to point out Danny's repeated phasing through the ball with an ever-rising volume. The last ten minutes or more consisted of only Danny and Dash playing, Danny phasing through Dash's dodgeballs and Dash managing to avoid Danny's. Danny had to admit it was impressive how Dash was keeping up, although some of it was because Danny was only used to throwing around ectoplasmic energy with no substantial mass. In the end, Mrs. Tetslaff had to call the game off at a tie because the next gym class needed to come in.

Both boys were breathing hard as they walked into the locker room, with sweat glistening on their brows. Danny made to go to one of the showers (he didn't really need to _wash_ anything, since he still smelled fresh, but rinsing the sweat off would be good) when Dash grabbed his shoulder.

"Maybe you're not as much of a total wimp as I thought you were, Fenturd—though you'd better bring that to the football field if you want it to be worth anything," Dash spit out, trying his hardest to make it seem like it wasn't praise in any way. Then he punched Danny in the shoulder, but not as hard as usual.

_Well, that was really weird_, Danny thought. He'd try to figure it out later, but right now, he had class to get ready for.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

When Jazz got home, she found her mother in the kitchen. Baking cookies.

It wasn't exactly a first-time occurrence—about once or twice a month Maddie would bake a huge load of cookies to keep in her suit and use as rewards for Jack (weird as that sounded, it worked). But Jazz hadn't expected her mom to be making cookies with that 'ghost suit' she was so intent on figuring out still in the basement, and dad wasn't here drooling over the cookies coming out of the oven, either.

"Hello, sweetie!" Maddie said when she saw Jazz walk in. "Have a good day at school?"

"It was fine," Jazz said. "Where's dad?"

"Oh, he's in the lab, running some tests on the suit."

"And you're... not?"

"He promised to stick to diagnostics only, the basics of finding out what materials make up the suit. I'll be there for the interesting parts. Besides, he said I should take a little break," Maddie said, smiling and offering Jazz a cookie.

"Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into him today, but I'm not complaining," Maddie said.

Jazz nodded, remembering the breakfast her dad had made that morning. Jack seemed to have gotten a lot more thoughtful overnight, able to more effectively show his love for his family.

Still, it was more than a bit weird. Jazz had studied enough psychology to know that people don't change that suddenly—especially not people like her dad.

Danny walked in the door smiling, dressed in his gym clothes and smelling a lot less _scented_ then he had that morning. He pulled a cookie off the cooling rack where Maddie had set it moments earlier, taking a big bite. Jazz winced at the thought of the incredibly hot melted chocolate burning her brother's mouth, but apparently it didn't bother him.

"Danny, wait until after dinner!" their mother scolded, and Danny tried to look sheepish.

"Sorry, mom," he said around a mouthful of half-chewed cookie, and Jazz deliberately averted her eyes. Raw cookie dough was fine to look at, but half-chewed cookie was more than a little disgusting. Danny seemed to get the idea and swallowed.

"So how was school today, Danny?" Maddie asked, spreading parchment paper over a baking pan and beginning to plop more cookie dough onto it.

"Pretty good," Danny said. "We had dodgeball in gym today."

Danny sounded... oddly cheerful about that. Jazz found herself looking at the exposed parts of his arms, checking for any bruises that might be forming from getting hit with balls, but found them oddly unscathed. Had he not gotten hit at all? Or just not on his arms? And why did he seem so _upbeat_ about it? Danny had never been good at dodgeball, nor shown any signs of enjoying it at all.

Still, he'd never shown any interest or talent in football, and now he was on the team. All recent weirdness considered, being better at sports wasn't that bad a thing, or even that strange a thing—puberty and such, right?

It was then that their father came up from the lab, wiping a bit of residue from something off his gloves with a rag. He set the rag down on the counter, then came up behind Maddie, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

"Jack!" she cried, surprised. A gob of cookie dough she'd been ready to place on a baking sheet dropped to the floor as she jerked in surprise, then started laughing.

"Not when my hands are full, please," she said.

"My apologies," Jack said, scooping down to pick up the dropped cookie dough and then throwing it into the garbage can, and since when had her dad talked so formally? Or, for that matter, thrown out cookie dough just because it had touched the floor? Not that she was complaining about the floor-food part, but still, this seemed a very drastic shift in his behavior. It wasn't natural.

"So how are the tests going?" Maddie asked, and Jazz began tuning out of their conversation as her dad launched into technical talk loaded with chemical names and other words she couldn't make sense of. Instead, she turned her attention to Danny, who had finished off the cookie he'd grabbed and was now watching their parents talk with an expression of faint curiosity and . . . what looked like longing? Reminiscence? Jazz wasn't sure of the exact word for the expression, but she'd seen it on Danny's face a few times before, when he recounted his adventures at space camp or talked about being an astronaut. A kind of awestruck longing for something attainable, something that could and would be worked towards until it was reached. But why was he looking that way at their parents, specifically at their mom, when he'd seen them almost every day for years now?

The oven timer started beeping, signaling that another tray of cookies was done, and Jack leaned past Maddie to grab an oven mitt, then smoothly pulled the cookies out of the oven and slid them onto the cooling rack.

"You didn't have to-" Maddie began to say, but Jack interrupted.

"It was my pleasure," he said, looking deep into Maddie's eyes with that look that the couples at Casper High got before they started making out against the lockers, ew, and –

"Kids, don't you have homework?" Maddie asked, snapping Jazz and Danny out of their thoughts.

"Uh, yeah," Danny said, and Jazz smirked, turning to walk up the stairs. Danny trailed behind, glancing back towards the kitchen a couple times, confused.

It was a good thing for her parents to have a healthy romantic relationship, Jazz thought, but she didn't need to know any of the details, so she started in on her Spanish homework with her headphones on, playing Spanish music loud enough that she couldn't hear anything outside her own room.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The adults made their way to the master bedroom, all the while holding back giggling and giving each other knowing glances.

Maddie didn't know what had gotten into Jack, but she certainly wasn't complaining. She went further into the room to get ready.

'Jack' closed and pressed in the lock on the door.

"Oh ~Jack~, I'm ready…" Maddie called.

Jack's brow furled at the name, but only briefly. Vlad turned around, rubbing Jack's hands expectantly… then stopped, confused.

Maddie, still fully dressed in her Hazmat suit, was sitting at a small table resting her chin on her hand, elbow on the table, with a sly grin on her face. Was this foreplay?

"You're going down," she said.

Jack gave a toothy grin in return, "We'll see about that."

"I'll be black this time," Maddie said as she moved something on the table. "It's your move."

Vlad raised an eyebrow and replied confused, "I… beg your pardon?"

"It's your move," Maddie repeated, cocking her head slightly to the side.

Vlad looked down at the table. A dollar store checkerboard was set up with red and black pieces neatly arranged in formation. This was _not_ how he expected to spend the evening.

This was _not_ how he was _going _to spend the evening.

Vlad gently placed a hand on the table, then swiftly slapped the board and pieces onto the floor.

Stunned, Maddie responded, "Jack? What's gotten into you?"

She got off her chair and began picking up the pieces.

"I was thinking… we might do something… else tonight."

Maddie clutched her forehead as she folded away the board, "Jack, you know I won't play Candy Land. No matter how many times you ask, I will not play a luck-based game. There's just no point."

Vlad's patience was thinning.

"Why don't we skip the board games tonight and do something… else," Vlad said as he reached over to Maddie.

"KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF!"

The outburst was unexpected, and Vlad found himself falling backwards.

Jack, the real Jack, was fighting back.

"Mads! You-"

Vlad tighten his grip on Jack's soul, silencing him.

"What in-" Maddie demanded.

Vlad coughed before replying, "Mads you, ah, you really aught to-um-wash your hands, yes they are quite filthy. You should keep them off anything until you've had them cleaned."

Maddie looked at her palms. They didn't seem tainted.

"Well… even if I felt like humoring you, which I don't," Maddie began, "Danny used up all the soap this morning, remember?"

"Ah… yes… I forgot about that," Vlad conceded.

Maddie studied him for a second and replied markedly less enthusiastic, "You know… I don't really feel like I'm in the mood for games anymore. I'm going to turn in."

She turned off the lights and got under the covers.

Vlad raised an eyebrow and smiled as he crawled into the queen sized bed. "Now _that_ sounds like a good idea."

The next thing he saw, and the last thing Vlad remembered, was the sight of Jack's clenched fist.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"_Good Morning Illinois! I'm Chet Ube-"_

Maddie slapped her hand on the clock radio, snoozing the morning news. She rolled over on her side and studied her husband. He was out cold, his jaw was a bit puffy, and he had a black eye. This surprised her, and was slightly concerning.

"Jack?"

Maddie jostled Jack's side, trying to wake him up. He didn't stir.

To say that Jack was acting differently lately would be an understatement… but perhaps this was a sign of a neurological disorder? They would need to make an appointment with his physician.

Maddie crawled out of bed carefully, and threw on her teal bathrobe over her Hazmat suit as she made her way to the kitchen and opened the freezer. She pulled out her taser and subdued the feral ice-cream before pulling out an ice pack for Jack.

The door to the basement lab was open.

Jack _did_ say he was going to get her involved when he found some interesting stuff with the ghost armor, and he hadn't yet. Still, it certainly couldn't hurt to take a quick look.

Maddie silently descended the stairwell.

The lab most certainly had been in heavy use since she was last in it. However, the components of the ghost armor were virtually untouched.

Instead, a new contraption lay three-quarters assembled on the basement floor. Five insect-like mechanical legs (with a sixth mostly assembled to the side) supported a wide body with a bowl-like indent on top with four clamps at strategic positions. A couple of cutting lasers were mounted in turrets on either side, while in the back one of Jack's thermoses was soldered secure at a curiously impractical angle.

The whole apparatus looked surprisingly durable, or at least, it would be once completed.

"Ahem."

Maddie jumped. Atop the stairwell was Jack looking down, displeased. Tucked under his arm was an old shortwave radio.

"Jack, what is this thing?" Maddie asked.

Jack pointed to the door as he walked down the stairs and said, "Get out."

Maddie's brow furrowed. "I _beg_ your pardon?" she replied with venom. "I know a thing or two about electromechanics. I could offer you a hand."

"I told you I would get you when there was something to see, and there is _nothing_ to see here."

Maddie marched up to Jack and met him eye to eye. Jack tried to match her glare, but the effect was lost with the black eye.

"What has gotten _into_ you?" she demanded.

"An unquestionable change for the better," Jack replied with a smile and tone Maddie felt like removing with a bat.

There was a beat of silence as they sized up each other.

"I'll reserve judgement on that." Maddie replied, shoving the icepack in Jack's arms before slamming the door shut to the lab shut on her way out.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

_Afternoon_

Danny was dressed in black and white sweatpants and t-shirt. He was currently seated backwards on one of the wheeled office chairs in the Ops Center and watching Maddie stretch earnestly.

A set of parallel bars were installed in the center of the large open room.

"Now you're sure you want to do this, Danny?" Maddie asked.

"I think so, at least," Danny confessed honestly.

"Alright, I certainly can't fault your enthusiasm," Maddie replied with a subtle grin. "But we're going to start with the basics. I want you to hold yourself up on these bars for as long as you can."

Danny stared at the bars, displeased. Then he turned to Maddie and replied, "But you didn't do anything remotely like that when you fought Skulker."

"You've got to learn to walk before you can run, and you've got to learn how to crawl before you can walk," Maddie countered.

"I said I wanted to be able to _defend_ people, not play on the monkey bars," Danny insisted and crossed his arms over the chair, irritated.

Maddie gave a frustrated sigh, then decided to try another approach.

"Eyes over here, young man," Maddie announced as she climbed onto the bars herself.

She swung her legs up from perpendicular and held them parallel to the ground for a graceful five seconds. Then she swung her legs around clockwise above the bars for three full rotations as her arms alternated jumping to let her legs pass unimpeded.

She stole a look at Danny as she prepared for the next stunt. He was looking a _lot_ more alert and invested than he had been a moment ago. While not necessarily one for showing off, it did feel good to have her son take a sincere interest in her abilities.

She swung her legs back and forth and threw herself into the air, flipping in a tight ball as she did. She reached her arms out upside down to grab the bars for the dismou-

"Maddie! Look out!"

The outburst caught Maddie by surprise. Her left arm caught the bar, but her right arm missed. She collided with the missed bar and had the wind nearly knocked out of her. Spots danced in her vision.

A pair of powerful arms lifted her up and embraced her.

"Oh, Maddie. That was dangerous," said Jack as he brushed her hair.

Maddie pushed herself out of the hug.

"Jack, I was fine," she countered.

"No you weren't," Jack insisted. "You could've gotten a lot more hurt than you were."

Maddie was losing her patience with this _new_ Jack, and that feeling slipped into her voice, "The only reason I got injured in the _first place_ was because _you_-"

"Here, I'll take over. I can teach young Daniel just fine," Jack forced, "Why don't you go on downstairs and-"

"No."

"… No?" Jack replied in legitimate surprise.

"Jack, I have things under control and while I appreciate your concern, I will not spend all my time in the kitchen cooking," Maddie near-shouted.

"Dad," Danny pleaded, "It's fine, really. You don't need to get involved."

"Quiet, boy," Jack snapped back.

"_Jack Fenton!"_ Maddie snarled.

"_What_?" Jack demanded. "You didn't even let me explain why I wanted you downstairs. I needed your help with something."

Maddie was still furious, but the information caught her slightly off guard.

"Help? Help with what? That new machine?"

"Oh, no no no. I need you to just load up the van. We've got a meeting with DalvCo right after Danny's game and we're going to need to showcase some of our inventions. He promises to invest heavily if he likes what he sees."

"You want me… to load up… the GAV." There was no emotion in her voice.

"Yes, I believe that's what I just said," Jack replied smoothly.

"Dad, I don't think that-" Danny interrupted.

"Danny, go downstairs. We're done for now. Your father and I need to have a chat."

"But-"

"_Now!"_

With no further words, Danny scrambled out of the Ops Center. He got halfway through closing the door behind him before Maddie started shouting.

"WHY THE BANSHEE WASN'T I INFORMED AB-"

Even when he made it to the ground floor, the yelling match could still be felt, if not comprehensively heard throughout the brick building.

"What's going on up there?" Jazz asked half running into Danny from the living room.

Danny shook his head helplessly.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The yelling match had continued for almost an hour and a half, with no end in sight. Jazz and Danny spread themselves out in the living room, ostensibly to get homework done, but their attention was on the eruption going on several floors above them. Very little homework had been completed in that time.

The doorbell rang, and Danny scrambled to go answer it.

"Hellll-oh," Danny transitioned speechless.

A pale-skinned rock band reject with a spiked mohawk stood hunched at the door. He glanced at Danny emotionlessly.

"Can I help you?" Danny eventually got out.

"Danny, who is it?" Jazz asked. "Oh! Spike. I totally lost track of the time. Let me get my stuff."

"You know this guy?" Danny asked incredulously while pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, we were going to go to the library to get some research done on the purple-back gorilla," Jazz explained as she zipped up her backpack. "We'll catch up with-"

The trio cringed involuntarily. The yelling upstairs reached new decibel levels as it became markedly more heated.

Danny was the one to break the awkward pause. "... You better go."

"Right..." Jazz said absently as she made it to the kitchen and was distracted again by the yelling upstairs. It was small wonder her parents' voices hadn't given out.

She stopped at the door outside and turned to Danny. "… You know, on second thought, would you like to come with us? You don't mind, right Spike?"

Spike glanced up at the Ops Center and gave a noncommittal shrug before he headed back to his Jeep. It was in a rickety poor shape and the exhaust backfired when he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Come on," Jazz grabbed Danny by the arm and pulled him into the street.

It would be well past curfew before they returned. No one noticed.

* * *

Gsv hsirmp glow gsv kfmp sv dzh lmv rm z nroorlm.

* * *

Duality was written with the philosophy that each chapter should read like an episode of Danny Phantom, with its own mostly self-contained dilemma and resolution. (Which is why the chapters tend to skew long.) With that said, you can consider the next chapter to be a breather episode of sorts. You can also consider it the calm before the storm as the 'season finale' occurs right after that. Part 1 is almost done, folks.


	7. Casper High Ravens vs Norrisville Carps

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

Casper High Ravens vs. Norrisville Carps

* * *

Coach Huddle hated lots of things.

"You can't be serious! I'm not going back out there!"

He hated long meetings with stuffy blowhards in suits.

"That can't be legal, much less possible!"

He hated the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

"I don't see anything in the handbook that says they can't."

He hated his wife's cat, which was convinced the coach was incapable of feeding himself, and took it upon itself to drop things in Huddle's open mouth while asleep.

"That's because it's too STUPID and DEADLY to add to the handbook in the first place!"

But most of all, he **hated** pansy teenagers who were too chicken to go out on the field during a game. The fact that there was some 15-foot golem in a football uniform on the field was inconsequential.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Earlier

"Yo-yo-yo, sports fans! I'm Heidi Weinerman, and you're watching 'Heidi ﹫ The Game'! I'm here in the stadium booth streaming live with the guy who's got the dirt on the dugout, guest co-announcer Tucker Foley from Casper High. Tuck?"

"Thanks, Heidi. And it's a great day to have the opening game of the season. Today the Norrisville Carps take on the visiting Casper High Ravens."

"Uh-huh. And I can report the Carps have been training long and hard for the opening game; the report cards are in and we're bringing the all A-game. So, Tucker, how rave'n are the Ravens? What can we expect from the match today?"

"Uh… well…"

"Come on! ~Inquiring minds _want_ to know~. What's the double ice-cream scoop on Casper High?"

"Practice has been… from what I've heard… Casper High treats football less as an organized sport and more like vaguely regulated chaos. I'll be frank, the Ravens don't have a chance: half the team got dismissed before the first match, practice has been anything but, the coach needs a therapist ASAP, and one of our players has terraphobia."

"Wait, terra-what? He's afraid of the earth?"

"No one's ever seen him set foot on it, at least."

"Uh well… this match promises to be… interesting… Oh! Looks like the players and ref are getting into position."

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Tucker's analysis of Casper High's prospects was not far off the mark. Thirty minutes in and Norrisville had scored 2 field goals and a touchdown to Casper High's zilch.

The ball was thrown high into the sky.

"I got it!" Sam chanted as she intercepted the ball.

"Not today, you don't!"

It was the only warning before Sam saw stars. Dash Baxter rammed into her, then caught the ball in Sam's stead.

Dash turned and made it about 5 paces towards the goal when the referee blew his whistle. "Personal foul: 15-yard penalty."

"What the-?"

"Manson, you alright?" Huddle asked, helping Sam up.

"Ung, I'll be fine." Sam replied, clutching her head and walking with the grace of someone leaving a bar after happy hour.

"Glad to hear it." Huddle turned to Dash, "Baxter, go warm the bench. Fenton, take Baxter's position. Johnston, get on the field and _STAY ON IT_."

"Wait! You're having me sit this out?" Dash asked, more than a little perplexed and upset. "And you're replacing me with FENTON of all people?"

Dash would've still been mad if it were Kwan who took his spot, but at least Kwan was somewhat similarly built and skilled. Fenton was a dweeb on and off the field.

"Yes, I am. Maybe this'll be a good lesson for you. And then _afterwards_ we're going to have a nice long chat with Manson."

"A _chat_? About what?" Dash whined.

"About whether or not you're still on the team after that show."

"But coach-!" Dash protested.

Huddle turned to Dash and pointedly jabbed his pen into Dash's chest.

"Don't _'but'_ me, Baxter. Now sit down before I decide to skip the chat."

Dash opened his mouth to argue further but opted instead to sit on the bench. There was nothing reasonably expected to be won, and everything to be lost.

So he grumbled loudly to himself as he watched the game play out. His blood boiled at every ball fumbled by Danny, at every touchdown made by the Carps, and at the fact that the person he was bench warming for was nowhere to be found on the field.

At halftime, both teams took a short break. Morale was low around the Ravens' Gatorade dispenser.

"Hey, cheer up man," Kwan consoled. "The crowd loves ya, at least."

At the other end of the field, a large player was being tossed in the air by his teammates as the crowd cheered, "BASH! BASH! BASH! BASH! BASH! BASH!"

"They're cheering 'BASH', not 'DASH', you knucklehead," Dash spat.

Kwan put his hands up apologetically.

"Sorry, dude. Honest mistake."

Dash didn't say anything. He just kicked the Gatorade tub over while Wes was refilling and stormed off.

"Hey, Baxter! What's your dysfunction?" Wes, wearing most of his beverage, cried out.

"Can it, dork." Dash spat out as he rounded the corner.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

_Meanwhile, deep in the prison labyrinth of Norrisville High…_

An ancient evil sniffed the air.

"Mmmmm, ahhhhh… do you smell that?"

The sewer rat cocked its head to the side, then slightly raised up his sports themed hotdog (which was roughly the size of the rat itself). Its left paw was wearing a foam pointer finger, and on its head was a baseball cap that emblazoned 'Local Sports Team'.

"No, not an olfactory odor," the 800 year old sorcerer stood up, his golden shackles rattling as he raised his hands in the air in dramatic emphasis.

"The scent of teenaged dejection, jealousy, and barely controlled rage. Perfectly ripened to-"

The rat cocked his head to the side and shrugged again. It was a semi-sentient rodent. Extra-sensory empathic perception was outside its pay grade.

The Sorcerer would've rolled his eyes if he had any irises.

"Yes, well, dumb question wasn't it?"

The rat squeaked and took a bite out of the hotdog.

"That was a rhetorical question."

The rat shrugged as it chewed.

"Now…" The Sorcerer brushed his long, decayed fingers along the air until a green gas manifested and rushed into the vents, "let the games begin anew!"

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"And we're back! I'm Heidi Weinerman here with Tucker Foley, and you're still watching 'Heidi The Game'! Halftime break is over with the Norrisville Carps leading with all the sizzle dizzle at 21 points to the Casper High Ravens' wacked 6."

"That'd be right. Without Dash Baxter on the team, the Ravens don't stand a chance," Tucker chimed in.

"I'm assuming Dash is your star player, so if he was brought back on they'd have a shot?"

Tucker sneered, "No, they still don't. I just felt like rubbing that fact in."

Heidi gave Tucker a questioning look as she shuffled her notes. "Oooookay. Anyway, the players are reassembling on the field, and it looks like we're honk'n ready to get back to play."

"The Carps have the ball and… wow… what a kick. I've never seen a football get so much air. The ball might actually cross for a field goal."

"I'd have to concur, Tuck. Wait. What's that player doing climbing the-…? Did… d-did he just swat the ball from the goal post? Is that even legal?"

Tucker just shrugged. "Ref doesn't seem to care at least. Looks like the next play will be at the … 1 yard line? I don't think I've ever heard of a play that close to the goal before."

Heidi placed her arm on the counter and rested her head on her hand. "Alright, I'll give the kid credit for the unconventional defense, but I could've fallen unconscious from the goal post and made it farther back than that."

"That's Johnston for you. I don't have his jersey number memorized, but I'd bet my CPU that that's Johnston. Or at least, Coach Huddle seems to think it is. I don't know who else would cause him to take a bite out of his hat like that."

Heidi raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Isn't that a football helmet he's violently gnawing on though? I mean—"

"He has anger management issues… and hopefully a good dentist," Tucker explained.

"Whatever. Both teams are lined up in formation and ready for the next play," Heidi narrated.

Tucker abruptly stood up and pointed out the window.

"… what's with the green mist? Oh god what the-!?"

"Well, well, well… looks like there's a new element to the game now. Ladies and gentlemen, blah blah blah blah blah, there's a monster on the field," Heidi reported in a dull monotone.

Tucker practically yelled in Heidi's ear. "What is wrong with you people!? There's a bloody real live golem on the field wearing a football jersey! The Ravens at least have the sense to run, the stupid Carps are unfazed BY A MONSTER ON THE FIELD. "

"Look, these things happen."

"'These things happen'? 'THESE THINGS HAPPEN'?! Do you NOT see what's happening right in front of you!?"

"Yes, yes, I see. This sort of thing happens at least twice a day here. It's no biggie." Heidi waved her free hand dismissively. "And it looks like the ref has made the call to continue the game around it."

"You're bonkers. The ref is bonkers. You're all bonkers. Word of advice: stop drinking the 'kool-aid'."

Heidi turned to Tucker.

"Look, the Norrisville Ninja will be here and take care of it and life moves on."

"Who-the-what?" Tucker deadpanned.

"You know, the Ninja: Norrisville's local superhero. Comes in, yells a lot, saves the day."

"Well, where's the Ninja? I don't see a stupid ninja! What impossibly horrific tragedy could be holding your imaginary savior back from coming to the rescue?!"

"Take a chill pill. He'll be here sooner or later," Heidi reassured.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Casper High football bleachers

"This idea was **the** _cheese_. We totally beat the crowds and have the best seats," Randy boasted as he kicked his feet back on the railing.

"Hmm… I would've thought the game would've started by now. Are you sure we've got the right place?" Howard questioned.

"What the juice? The game's against Casper High. We're at Casper High. Where else would it be!?"

"Oh yeah, good point."

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The Ravens ultimately returned to formation, albeit shaking and distracted. No one from Casper High in their right mind would have returned to the field under normal circumstances, but facing the threat of the rampaging golem on the field was marginally less dangerous than the wrath of the coach clutching the football helmet with chunks missing in the shape of bite marks.

A tap on his shoulder made Kwan jump.

Danny waved his hands apologetically.

"Sorry man. Didn't mean to startle you. I was just wondering if you might be willing to help me with a play…" and he whispered into Kwan's helmet.

Kwan turned to look at Danny funny.

"It can't hurt to try, at least…"

Kwan turned again to face the golem down near the other end of the field that was aimlessly punching the ground and redoing the landscape in the process.

"Eh, what've we got to lose," Kwan shrugged and got into his new position.

"42, 47, hike!" barked the Norrisville player as he passed the ball under to his teammate.

Just as the second Norrisville player reaching his arm back to toss the football over the goal posts (and away from where Johnston was currently perched), Danny made a running start at Kwan.

"Alley-oop!" Kwan grunted as he used his cupped hands to throw the running Danny up. Danny flailed a bit midair but was able to catch the ball before it crossed the goal line.

"Wes! Catch!" Danny shouted immediately as he began to fall.

Wes barely got out a "Wait what?" before the football clonked him in the face and Danny landed on Kwan in a heap.

Sam dove in and caught the ball rebounding off Wes before it could hit the turf, and made a mad dash for the opposite end of the field. It took the Carps a few too many precious seconds to process what just happened.

"I **hate** that guy!" one of the Carps bellowed. "Everyone! Get that guy!"

Both teams chased after Sam and began to close in on the distance. Sam might've turned to take a glance at the nearing mob after her, but there was a major obstacle in front of her.

The golem spotted Sam and, with strides that created miniature earthquakes, stormed after her. Sam faked moving left and the golem fell for it. With the poise and grace of a bowling ball, the rock monster stumbled and knocked into some of the oncoming football players. It was a good thing football uniforms have so much padding because the injuries could've been worse than they were. However, the golem was not to be delayed long, as it immediately got back up and chased after Sam.

"Manson, I think it's after the ball! Pass it to me!" Kwan called out from behind.

Sam didn't bother to question why a rock monster would want a football. Granted, the jersey might've been a clue under any level of investigation, but now wasn't the time. She threw the ball to Kwan.

The golem was caught off guard by the ball's toss and skidded to turn back and chase after it.

"Ha! I was right!… Oh _god_ I was right!" Kwan cowered as the golem ran straight at him.

"Kwan! Over here!" Wes called out, arms open for a pass.

All too eager to be rid of the rock monster bait, Kwan threw the ball to Wes who, after the golem started to chase after him, threw it back to Sam. The three students ran down the field in a triangular formation, playing the most dangerous game of 'keep-away' in their lives.

Unfortunately, they forgot that the golem wasn't their only problem.

"DIBS ON THAT GUY!" was the war cry of one of the Carps before he tackled Sam. The fact that she didn't have the ball on her at the time was of no consequence to him.

The golem was closing in on Kwan when he threw the ball to Wes. The monster was blocking a return pass to Kwan. And Sam was out of the question.

Then he caught sight of Danny not too far away, and a sly grin formed on Wes's face.

"Hey '_Fenton_'! Payback!"

Wes threw the ball to Danny with slightly more force than was necessary. The ball didn't hit Danny in the head, as Wes had intended. Instead, it wedged itself in his helmet.

"Oh dear…" Wes murmured.

Danny struggled to get the ball out of his face as the golem turned once again to get the ball. The golem leaped into the air, arms outstretched, ready to belly flop on Danny. He just managed to throw the entire helmet off his head before the monster crash landed, kicking up a huge cloud of dust and dirt in the process.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"WHAT!? What just- what is wrong with you people?!" Tucker stammered, eyes glued on the center of the dust cloud.

"And it looks like the game is over," Heidi interrupted, unperturbed.

"Well, no DUH," Tucker bit back. "With a blasted FATALITY, who thought it was a good idea-"

"Actually, the ref called the game because the football is no good."

Tucker stared at Heidi blankly for a full eight seconds.

"The golem… it landed on the football," Heidi waved her hands around mockingly, as if trying to jog Tucker's memory. "Totally popped it."

Tucker turned from Heidi and stared at the bag full of footballs by the side of the field. "That's stup-"

Heidi huffed, "And if you're still worried about your teammates, they're fine."

"Team-'mates'?" Tucker stressed.

"Yeah, the golem has turned back into one of your footballers. Both of them are fine," Heidi explained.

Tucker looked back down to the field. Dash was face-down in the golem-shaped crater. Danny was sitting on top of him with a very confused expression. Wes was nearby yelling at the ref, or whoever would notice (which was no one), and pointing repeatedly at Danny. The ref, for his part, was ignoring Wes and staring with a melancholy expression at the flattened ball in his hand.

"… If I'm _ever_ back here, it'll be too soon," Tucker finished.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Deep in the underground labyrinth of Norrisville High, a green mist whisked to and fro as it meandered back to the magical manacled man who cast it out in the first place.

The sewer rat turned to face the Sorcerer, exasperated as it munched on a bag of sports peanuts.

"Don't say it," the Sorcerer ordered.

The sewer rat cocked his head smugly, but content to eat his salty snacks.

It squeaked.

"I said _DON'T _say it."

The prison was otherwise silent aside from the dripping of pipes, the creaking of metal, and what sufficed for the snickering of a small vermin.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"Hey Howard... bet I can chug this can of spray cheese," Randy said as he shook the can with one hand while pointing at it with the other.

Howard face palmed. "Dude, you're so embarrassing sometimes…" Then he pulled out a second can from behind his back with a wicked grin on his face. "Now, if you were to chug TWO cans of spray cheese at the same time…"

"You're on!"

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"DANNY! DANNY! DANNY! DANNY! DANNY!"

It didn't matter that the Ravens had still ultimately lost, by a large margin no less. The ghost boy in question was being tossed in the air by his teammates in celebration. Most of his teammates, anyway. Wes was yelling about how Danny passed _through_ the golem to complete the final play.

No one ever paid attention to Wes when he got like this.

Dash sat on the bench, watching the festivities. He was utterly drained from his confusing transformation. There was this green gas… and then the next thing he knew, he was tasting turf. But none of that was on his mind at the moment.

"DANNY! DANNY! DANNY! DANNY! DANNY!"

He clenched his fist. It shook with barely-restrained jealousy.

Fortunately, the crowd dispersed when Danny's family approached.

"Sorry to break this up kiddos, but-" but Maddie was interrupted.

'Jack' put a hand on her shoulder, "Here Maddie, let me do it for you. Sorry Danny, but we need to leave for that meeting at DalvCo."

Maddie slapped Jack's hand off her shoulder. The action muted the cheering teens. Maddie gave an insincere grin in return, which didn't do much to correct the killed mood.

If anyone felt better about it though, it was Dash. But it was short lived as a heavy finger tapped on his shoulder.

"We need to have a talk," Huddle began.

Dash bit his lip, not liking where things were headed. He turned back briefly just to watch the Fentons head to their RV, where Jazz was already waiting.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"RUN!"

The family turned to 'Jack'. Varying looks of concern and worry plastered their faces at his outburst as they unloaded themselves from the RV.

"Run from what?"

'Jack' pounded his chest a few times as he laughed unconvincingly, "Ah-I meant 'run' as in 'run along', I'll catch up with you guys in a moment. I just uh… need a short break."

"Jack, I'm starting to get really concerned about these episodes you've been having. You _need_ to see a doctor."

"Maddie, I told you I'm **fine**._" '_Jack' replied too forcefully. Maddie took a step back. Jack leaned on the RV and clutched his brow. "Dalv is… we can't keep him waiting. Just… just go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Maddie looked cross and was about to say something in retort, but changed her mind at the last minute. She grabbed the duffle bag with the equipment for the meeting. "Kids, stay with your father. If he has another spell, call 911. We're not playing this game anymore." And with that she stormed off around the corner to the warehouse.

After they heard the door to the building close, 'Jack' turned to the two teens. "I don't need to be babysat by both of you."

"But Mom just-" Jazz countered.

"I _know_ what she said, and _I'm_ saying to _go_ help your mother." Before Jazz could get a word in, 'Jack' continued, "Daniel can stay here."

Jazz put her foot down, "Mom said-"

Danny put his hand on Jazz's arm. "It's okay. I can handle him." Quieter, out of Jack's earshot, he added, "Besides, I think he wants to talk to me in private."

'Jack' turned back to the Fenton GAV and leaned on it as he clutched his head.

Jazz gave Danny a distrusting glance. Danny and Jack had been acting odd lately. But this was the first time there was anything to suggest the two were related. At the bare minimum, this suggested Danny knew something she didn't.

Between hissing teeth, Jazz replied, "You owe me an explanation later."

There was the briefest pause before Danny narrowly shook his head 'no' apologetically. "I can't. I want to, but I can't."

"What are you still doing here?! Didn't I tell you to go?" 'Jack' boomed.

"I'll be okay." Danny reassured.

Jazz gave the males 'the look', but with a huff, she turned and headed in the direction her mom had gone. She kept her ears sharp as she walked for the conversation behind her back that had yet to take place. The silence made her conscious of the pair of eyes that were probably boring into her.

Jazz turned the corner and opened the metal door to the warehouse. She was outside their field of vision and briefly dwelled on this fact. Jazz closed the door, making sure there was an audible slam to it. It was dishonest, and she was sure to be caught, but Jazz wanted answers and she wasn't going to get them by going inside.

Almost immediately, she could hear an animated discussion between 'Jack' and Danny. Unfortunately, she was too far away to tell exactly _what_ they were saying. Conscious about remaining in their blind spots, Jazz crept behind a short concrete barrier.

"-ou can't keep doing this. It's lying and stealing, and it's not your life."

"And what you're doing is any more moral? Please, continue to elaborate on my color, Mr. Pot." 'Jack' boomed then calmed down. "But you're right… I can't keep doing this." On cue, Jack's body curled over. The outline of Vlad pushed out ever so slightly appeared for all of a second before Vlad regained control. "GAH, That man is insufferable. But no… no, we're ending this charade here and now."

This gave Danny pause; he seemed to be expecting the fight to go on a lot longer than it had. "…You're planning on coming clean?"

"Ha. No. Could you imagine the tea-time conversation that would write? 'Sorry dear, but I, your late husband was posing as your buffoon of a current husband. Hugs and kisses dearie'. No. We're taking this relationship back where it belongs: The Ghost Zone."

Jazz slumped against the concrete wall… "The Ghost Zone?" she whispered. She'd been hoping for answers… not more questions.

Danny guffawed. "Uh, little ahead of yourself? There's the slight technicality that _no one's a_ _ghost_!"

"That can be easily corrected."

Danny stopped laughing, "…What?"

"Everyone dies eventually. We'll just be speeding things along."

Jazz turned pallid.

"But-"

"But _what_?" 'Jack' shook himself. "Stay here, or don't. I don't really care." He marched off to the warehouse.

Jazz sucked in air. Her heart was pounding wildly and she prayed she was the only one who could hear it. 'Jack' passed the stone barrier. Jazz unconsciously pulled at the weeds that were growing in the wall. She was totally exposed, the only thing saving her was that Jack had not turned around.

He walked up to the door, turned the handle and paused.

Jazz was certain her position was going to be compromised. Her Dad was homicidal and he'd start with her.

But instead, he walked into the warehouse. The quiet sound of a door locking followed after the door closed.

Jazz released the air she was holding and greedily sucked more in. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Her fingers fumbled as she frantically tried to call her mom. After a few failed attempts due to her shaking hands, an outgoing call was made.

"Come on. Come on." She chanted as the phone rang.

If she had been a bit more aware of her surroundings, a tap on the shoulder might not have been what cued her into the fact that she wasn't the only one still outside the warehouse.

"Say… um… how much of that did you end up hearing?" Danny asked while awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

There was no rational thought. The reaction was instantaneous. Jazz simultaneously screamed "**GET **_**AWAY**_** FROM ME**", threw her cellphone hard at Danny's face, and ran in the opposite direction.

Danny yelped in pain as he crouched on the ground clutching his head. Blood trickled down his forehead where the cellphone struck hardest.

"Jazz! Jazz, wait!" He chased after her toward the shipping docks.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Maddie picked up her ringing cellphone. The ring tone was Jazz's. "Hello? Jazz?… Jazz?"

"-ET AWAY F—M -E!"

"Jazz? Jazz!? Hello!?"

Thinking she lost the connection, Maddie took the phone from her ear and looked at the display. No, the connection was still there. There just wasn't anything coming from the other end of the line.

Forgetting the meeting with Dalv, Maddie turned back around gradually quickening her pace with every stride. The scenario stank to high heaven. Jack acting odd, Jazz's phone call, and the fact that the warehouse, while clearly recently used, was currently unstaffed.

So lost in her suspicions that she almost ran into Jack… almost. The fact he was clutching a crowbar did not escape her notice and set off warning bells in her head. There wasn't any blood or other suspicious matter on it. It alarmed Maddie that she was even having those thoughts.

"Jack, I think Jazz is in trouble." Maddie stated, careful to make direct eye contact with 'Jack' and keep the crowbar in her peripheral vision, not an easy task considering Jack's girth.

The hairs on Maddie's neck stood up when Jack replied, "Really? Then we better go check on her." It was clearly new info to Jack, but it was said with the same kind of surprise one might react with when learning the car is low on gas.

Mundane… inconsequential.

Wrong.

_No… no. This is Jack. This can't be right. You're misreading this._

Reading Maddie's expression, Jack turned and jogged to the entrance.

Maddie gave an exasperated sigh and sprinted ahead. Jack was never the fastest runner. She got to the exit first and was stopped when the door handle refused to turn.

The hesitation was all Vlad needed. Not slowing down from his jog, he swung the crowbar, putting his momentum into it.

Maddie didn't see it coming.

Her reaction was too late.

* * *

YVDZIV!

* * *

Hope you guys like the new cover image commissioned by the ever talented thegingermenace123 from Tumblr. We're certainly very happy with it.

Football's role in Duality has an interesting history. It was always going to be important from the outline on day 1, but as we realized just _how_ important it became clear that we were going to need to have a few matches, and while we "could've" had them against a generic faceless team, we thought it'd be more fun if the games were against other high schools from other cartoons. And…from there we realized we 'could' have a mundane game where the ball flies back and forth, but it'd be more _fun_ if elements from the high schools played havoc with what might otherwise be regulation football.

Anyways, while Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja won't be the last crossover, Duality is a Danny Phantom fanfic. There won't be any superhero team ups, joining forces, or whatever.

But, speaking of Randy Cunningham… the wonderful Lynse has begun writing "Reflections" a RC9GN/DP crossover fan fic where Randy and Danny… they kinda don't get off on the right foot on their first meeting. Also, the Fentons are working for McFist, The Sorcerer has formed a pact with a new ally, and the Specter Speeder's been stolen! It's a kind of spiritual sequel to "Mirrored", her rather well received American Dragon + Danny Phantom crossover fic. I just can't do the story justice, go and read it!


	8. The Tragedy of the Flying Dutchman - 1

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

The Tragedy of the Flying Dutchman - Part 1

* * *

_Mission Specialist's Personal Log,_

_We arrived at Amity Harbor with little to no incident yesterday. The trade goods were offloaded and we are in the midst of loading both mundane cargo and… other items reserved to the Flying Dutchman's private hold. _

_It really is too bad there wasn't more shore leave, but it was nice seeing Wes play. He seems to have grown at least an inch each time I see him, though I do question the juvenile athletics safety board's practice of allowing feral monsters to play sports. _

_Anyway, security cameras have been compromised around the pier, compliments of yours truly. The illicit nature of what's being loaded precludes a paper trail. That is and remains Priority One, even at the expense of the hold. We cast off down the Mississippi for Louisiana within the hour._

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz cursed herself over and over as she ran. The reason her dad and brother weren't acting like themselves was because they _weren't_ themselves. She cursed herself again for not identifying the signs for what they were. (If she were in a more rational state of mind, she might realize that nothing short of witnessing it first-hand would've convinced her of ghosts, but now was certainly not the time for rational thought.)

Her 'brother' screamed her name as he chased her down the docks. Hitting him in the face with the cell phone had slowed him down or at least stalled him, but to her disadvantage the weeks of football had given him a running stamina she lacked.

And it goes without saying the inherent idiocy of using a phone as a projectile at the expense of being able to call for help hadn't turned things in her favor.

As it was, the impostor controlling her brother was gaining on her and Jazz was getting winded. She couldn't maintain her dwindling lead for much longer.

"Jazz, wait!"

She ignored him. There was a series of pallets loaded with crates and boxes near one of the larger boats. She veered toward the cargo, entering his blind spot.

"Come on, come on!" Jazz tried the lids for some of the larger boxes. The third one was the first that wasn't locked. She slipped in, and closed the lid after her. The styrofoam popcorn made for soft company. The large metal contraption that seemed to be this box's intended cargo did not. There was a knothole in the box, which was good. It would give her both a peephole and a source of oxygen. She concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to further mask her presence. It was harder than it sounded since there was still adrenaline pumping through her veins and she had run more in the past few minutes than she had in the past six months. Her lungs _screamed_ for more air.

"Jazz! Jazz, come back!" the fake continued to call.

Jazz peered through the hole. The thing possessing her brother was uncomfortably close. Point of fact: she had a clear view of the back side of his pants. Despite this, he didn't seem to be aware of how close he was to his mark.

Ignoring the protests from her lungs, Jazz refused to breathe.

If she was lucky, he'd think he missed her, then she could slip away and get to mom before things got more out of hand.

"Jazz, I know you're here somewhere. Please come out, I just want to talk."

_Dammit._

"It's not what you think." There was a pause. "Or maybe it is… I'm not really sure. But I'm not going to hurt you. I promise," 'Danny' called out.

It wouldn't matter what the monster said; Jazz was going to hear nothing of it. The lack of light made it difficult, and lack of room did too, for that matter, but Jazz felt around the popcorn pellets, hoping to find something solid she could defend herself with. The large metal contraption was not practical, but maybe there were other things in here too.

Her silent rummaging was momentarily paused when through her spy hole she caught sight of blue mist flowing out of her brother's mouth.

Then it was more permanently put on hold when her crate suddenly gave and tilted as it rose into the air.

"BEWARE!" a loud, unfamiliar voice bellowed.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Maddie collapsed to the floor.

Vlad, still possessing Jack's body, tightly clutched the crowbar used to strike her down. He gave an experimental kick to her side. Satisfied, he slid over a box and sat on it.

He waited.

"Hmm… I wonder how long it'll take for your ghost to manifest?" He clapped and rubbed his stolen hands like a child ready to open a Christmas gift. "Truth be told… I've never been responsible for the death of a human being before. Well… that's not _totally_ true I suppose, but those were… extenuating circumstances… You _could_ say I had a hand in severing young Daniel's mortal coil."

Maddie's eyes shot open. She spun on the floor. Taking advantage of Jack's higher center of gravity she aimed for his feet, knocking him backwards.

When Vlad came back to, Maddie was gone. But a trail of blood betrayed her location.

"Ho ho… I should've known you wouldn't make this too easy, Maddie. Why don't we make this interesting with a locked room murder mystery?" He left Jack's body, turned invisible, and flew off to secure the rest of the warehouse.

"Oooooh, EEEEeeeeeeuahhhhhhgh. Why do I hurt so much!? And where AM I?" cried the suddenly very confused Jack Fenton.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"I AM THE BOX GHOST! AND I SHALL LIBERATE ALL THINGS CARDBOARD AND SQUARE FROM THE UTILITARIAN WHIMS OF MAN!"

"Look, Boxy, I don't really have time for this. Can you please go be weird somewhere else? Now is not a good time," Danny tried to dismiss the ghost as he looked on, ill at ease with the floating crates.

The Box Ghost looked down from his floating arsenal of stolen cubes.

"Who is this puny child who pretends to be grand enough to wield authority over none other than The Box Ghost?"

Danny muttered something under his breath along the terms of hang nails having enough authority, but aloud he declared, "Danny. Danny Plasmius. Now, I'm kind of busy here so could you please please _please _put those things back down?"

"Danny _Plasmius_?" Jazz whispered from within her levitating hiding place.

The Box Ghost laughed.

"You cannot be young Plasmius—you are far too alive and living to be he."

"You _do_ realize you used two synonyms and the wrong form of the pronoun in that sentence, right?" Danny chided.

"It is of no importance! For I have a schedule to keep and boxes to liberate!" The Box Ghost lifted his arms and the crates trailed after him, spinning and tumbling in the air.

Jazz cried out when the weighty machine she was hiding with tumbled onto her.

"Jazz!"

Ignoring Danny's outburst, The Box Ghost and his boxes crossed onto the river, boarded a cargo ship, and entered the hold. Screams of frightened, underpaid sailors echoed across the marina.

Danny ran after them but skidded to an abrupt stop when he reached the end of the dock. He quickly double-checked his powers. The omnipresent elastic sensation confirmed he couldn't de-possess the body he was occupying, and a brief jump in the air reconfirmed that, if he even could fly in this form at all, that he wasn't going to be airborne in the next 20 seconds.

The boat was approaching the river's mouth. No one could possibly keep up with a boat on foot, especially once it started heading down stream. He'd need to come up with something quick.

An idea struck him… and he prayed it would work. Danny slowly backed up, then sprinted to the end of the dock. He leapt into the air and turned his body intangible as he struck the water.

The gambit paid off, he was torpedoing towards the boat. It wasn't flying, not really. He couldn't alter his altitude or even steer. But when turning intangible, the laws of physics acted… a little bit differently.

An object in motion, according to Newton's first law, tends to stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. While intangible, there are no outside forces (most of the time), so inertia can finally tell off friction.

(Though it wouldn't be a smart idea to use this cheat to get airborne. Well, the getting airborne part technically wouldn't be a problem: just jump and let inertia take you the rest of the way. It was the landing part without a means of slowing down that would either leave you a pancake on the sidewalk or see you continuing on and launching yourself into space.)

When Danny phased through the lower hull, he reactivated his tangibility and inelegantly belly-flopped onto the deck.

"Oooh…" he moaned.

When he reopened his eyes, it was to a somewhat familiar form of chaos: red warning lights blinking and klaxons blaring. Sailors were running around yelling as cargo moved itself. Danny dusted himself off and spotted The Box Ghost summoning more boxes and crates into his swirling square maelstrom.

Apparently, the observation was mutual.

"You!" The Box Ghost exclaimed.

"Yes, yes. Me. You. Us. Them. Whatever." Danny waved his arm dismissively. "Look, there's been a mistake. There's a girl trapped in one of your flying boxes. I just want to leave with her. No confrontation, no fighting. You can keep your boxe-"

But he never got to finish that sentence. "Anything that is inside a box is the property of the box! And anything box or boxlike is under the protection of The Box Ghost! BEWARE!"

And with that, The Box Ghost threw his finger like an objecting lawyer and a crate went crashing in its direction. Danny yelped as the crate smashed where his feet had been mere seconds earlier.

"BEWARE!" The Box Ghost echoed, sending another crate at Danny, then another. Danny ducked and rolled and dashed as debris rained from above. Some boxes exploded on contact, while the contents of others lodged themselves into the floor. The cargo ship rocked and its metal hull rang loudly as it poorly endured the punishment it was never built to take.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Maddie gritted her teeth as she hobbled to the open door. But just as she was about to reach the opening, the door closed of its own volition. Then the distinct sound of a latch from the other side being turned followed. Maddie quickly grabbed for the door, but the handle refused to budge.

"Hello!? Maddie? Are you in here?"

Maddie bit her tongue, careful not to make a sound. She slipped away behind towering shelving as she made her way to the next door. This door repeated the actions of the last. It closed and locked itself.

"Oh GOD, is that blood!? Hello!?"

Maddie self-consciously looked down at herself. Splotches of blood trailed behind her, and a sizable pool was forming at her feet. The impact from the crowbar to her right arm was overwhelmingly painful; the light-headedness from the blood loss was barely registering. She found a secluded spot to hide, then tore and knotted her hazmat suit to better stem the bleeding.

"He-hello?! Madds? Danny? Jazz? Anyone?"

He was getting closer.

Maddie looked up. There were no windows in the warehouse, unless you counted the skylight. Just three doors, one each on the north, south and east sides. An additional large vehicular door occupied the south, but it was also closed and Maddie didn't see a control switch.

Maddie reviewed her options. She could stay here in her hiding spot. But the blood splatter trail would lead Jack back to her eventually. She could relocate, but with Jack being as close as his voice indicated he was, the motion might betray her presence.

She decided to readjust her makeshift bandages. Maddie might not be able to stop the bleeding all together, but if she could further prevent runoff it would remove at least one disadvantage and then she could relocate.

Her mind wandered as she tightened her knots. Jack killed Danny? But… _why_? Why was he trying to kill her too?

"Oh Maddie! What happened to you!?" Jack cried out when he poked into her hiding spot.

Maddie gave the perfect impersonation of a deer staring at the headlights of a barreling Mack truck.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Wilma kicked in the door to the bridge. A regrettable action, since having only one foot down on the deck when the cargo vessel was rocking wildly caused her to lose her balance and collide with the railing outside.

"Report!"

The helmsman looked up, "Ma'am, you're not allowed in he-"

"Cut the bureaucrap. There's some flying, glowing lunatic throwing the cargo around like a five year old having a tantrum-"

The vessel suddenly lurched starboard, knocking the feet out from below both adults. The helmsman flailed on the wheel as Wilma's face met with the dashboard.

She pulled her hair out of her face and continued speaking.

"And you're worried about some damn thing like protocol?"

The helmsman rolled his eyes. "You know about as much as I do! Now either get make yourself useful or stay out of my way!" He returned to the radio while pointing at a box on the wall. "Mayday! This is the cargo vessel: Flying Dutchman. Repeat! Mayday! Requesting emergency assistance."

Displeased, Wilma reached into the wall-mounted box and grabbed the emergency flare gun and loaded the red parachute magazine. She saw herself out and fired the distress marker high into the sky.

The illumination from the glowing flare cast an eerie glow in the night sky.

But what really gave Wilma pause was now revealed. Cast in the flare's blood red glow were a series of massive 40-foot steel shipping containers floating menacingly in the air.

She didn't have time to wonder at or fear the revelation, because they soon launched themselves one by one at the Flying Dutchman.

She ran back to the bridge just before the deck became the wall, and the poor vessel continued on to capsize.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"YEAAAAAAGH!"

Danny crouched as he landed on one of the large, floating steel shipping containers. The sudden impact of his weight drove the canister to bob in the air like a raft on a lake.

A red flare shot up into the air nearby.

There was a loud crash as the steel box he was just on barreled into the ship. The gradual shift in motion told Danny that the one he was currently crouching on would be next.

Reclaiming his momentum, he ran across the roof and leapt off it to the next one. He steeled himself as he landed on the floating container and continued to run towards the next.

Jazz poked her head through the lid of her crate. She was floating only a couple of yards behind The Box Ghost. She tightened her grip on the small, yet hefty, motor she found.

The Box Ghost took no notice, as he was too busy sequentially launching crates and containers out from underneath Danny, cackling with glee as the ghost child struggled to stay ahead of his mobile fate.

In what would be reflected on as a poorly-thought-out plan, Jazz threw the motor at the back of The Box Ghost's head. It hit spot-on and dazed the coverall-clad specter.

… And the moment he was struck, The Box Ghost's will over the boxes was severed. All at once, the airborne cubes and rectangles plummeted.

"JAZZ!" Danny screamed.

He dashed and leapt off the steel shipping container in the direction of the hurtling crate.

Jazz gasped as she caught sight of him. She grabbed another small machine and threw it at the creature possessing her brother jumping at her.

Danny cringed as the metal object flew at him and turned intangible. He phased through the makeshift weapon and continued on to phase into the crate. Without slowing down, he flickered his intangibility just enough to latch onto Jazz and phase them both through the other side of the crate and finally regained tangibility once they cleared.

Jazz kicked, screamed, and clawed at Danny as they collided with the Mississippi.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"My God, Maddie. What—?" Jack asked legitimately confused.

Maddie was about to scramble, run, fight—her survival instincts and training all rushing to take command…

…But a thought in the back of her head crept forward. The doors all closed as you approached them. They weren't automatic, they were manual. Jack's out-of-character behavior. The locked-down building. She was a paranormal scientist; how had she missed the signs?

_Oh god._

Some ghost was _using_ Jack.

Acting on impulse, she pulled the Fenton Thermos out of the satchel with the equipment to show at the meeting and pointed it at Jack.

She flipped the switch and a brilliant blue and white beam blasted out of the can and Jack covered his face in defense.

Above, Vlad watched Maddie assault her husband with the ghost catching beam, a cruel grin plastered his face.

Jack waddled around then collapsed to the ground in a daze.

"Jack? Are you-"

"Oh no no no no." Vlad waved his pointer finger 'no' in tempo in a mock condescending form. "We can't have that," he said to himself from high above. Still invisible he dived back down and possessed Jack.

"You know, I never did truly love you," said 'Jack'. This was a complete lie. But so long as Vlad was posing as Jack, it would certainly be worth his time to burn a few of Jack's bridges.

Maddie threw a punch at Jack and scrambled out of her hiding place in the confusion. But Vlad had released Jack _just_ before the punch would connect.

"Grrraaaaah, Maddie? Why!?" Jack cried as he clutched his broken nose. He stumbled as he chased after his wife.

He didn't get very far before Vlad re-entered his body.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz hacked and coughed up water as Danny dragged her to shore.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

Jazz coughed up more water, then slowly turned to look at the creature in front of her. "I'm… fine."

Then she jumped at Danny, wrapping her fingers -tightly- around his neck as he fell backwards onto the shore. "But I can't say the same for my _brother_, now can I? Who are you, _really_? I want the **truth**."

Danny cringed. "I… I'm not your brother. My name is-"

"I don't _care _about your name. Is Danny still in there? MY Danny."

The ghost child's eyes glazed over. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"*Bluuuurb* Help!"

Jazz and Danny both turned their heads back to the river. About half a dozen sailors were drifting in the river. Not all of them had life vests on.

Overhead, The Box Ghost cackled in glee, "I told you all to beware The Box Ghost and his awesome powers over three dimensional parallelograms. And now, me and my rectangular holders of doom shall finish the job!"

He threw both his arms forward and screamed "BEWARE!"

…

But nothing happened.

The Box Ghost looked left and right in confusion. There were no boxes heeding his commands. There were no boxes _left_ to heed his will. "It appears you shall live another day. But you shall BEWARE The Box Ghost when I shall have my rectangular vengeance on behalf of all the lost boxes today!" With a final parting "BEWARE" he flew off in the direction of the city.

"*Gasp* Heeellpp!"

Danny looked Jazz in the eyes. "We can… I'll tell you everything… but not now. I'm sorry about this."

He turned intangible and phased through her. Jazz fruitlessly swung and tried to regain her grip. Danny dashed back into the water with Jazz yelling after him.

Once Danny was far enough along, he used the 'torpedo' trick to launch himself away.

Jazz slowed to a halt knee-deep in the river, as the form of her brother made off faster than she could reason, much less pursue.

Her dad was overshadowed and trying to kill her mom, and another spook just ran off in front of her after having pursued her. Her body went numb and her knees buckled from the stress. She pulled herself back up and trudged back to shore.

"It's alright. Stay with us."

Jazz turned around at the all-too-familiar voice with the unfamiliar owner. 'Danny' was back and had a half-drowned sailor slung over his shoulders. They made it to shore and Danny laid him down before diving back into the water, this time sending himself to the ship.

Jazz was mad, confused, and more than a little shaky. But, she turned her attention back to the sailor.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked.

The man hacked, "I'll be fine… physically." The man shivered as he clutched his forehead. "Oh god, _how_ am I going to explain what happened tonight? WHAT even happened?"

By this point a trio of sailors returned, two with life vests aiding a third without. One made a phone call while the other tried to wring out her clothes. The third merely grasped for breath.

Danny, meanwhile, was half way back paddling with another half-drowned woman. "This is everyone… I think. Another woman made it to the other shore."

The most coherent sailor took a silent roll call pointing at everyone present and frowned.

"That's _not_ everyone. Oh god, the rest must still be onboard."

Without hesitation, Danny turned and ran back into the river.

"Hey kid! Leave that to the emergency crews, kid! KID!" the sailor's words echoed as the ghost child dove into the water, heading to the sunken Flying Dutchman.

"The kid's got to have a death wish, trying to play hero."

Jazz, at a complete loss of what else she could do, clicked her tongue at the ironic word choice.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Wilma slammed her fist into the door of the bridge. It refused to budge. Countless gallons of water weighed on the door, holding it firmly in place. It was simultaneously a curse and a blessing. The forces trapping them in the bridge were also holding the air in. How long they could continue to breathe their own carbon dioxide was another problem altogether.

She turned her attention back to the helmsman. He'd knocked himself out hitting his head hard on the shelf when the Flying Dutchman capsized. The med-kit was strewn all over the ceiling, which was currently acting as the floor. The gauze she had wrapped around his head was starting to turn red again. The bleeding _was _slowing, thankfully. Wilma took the binding off him and began wrapping the fresh gauze. She couldn't keep changing his dressing indefinitely. This was the third time she'd done this and there wasn't that much left to the roll of gauze.

She was probably doing it wrong, but she was essentially an over-glorified courier and scientist, not a medic.

"Any port in a storm," Wilma said to herself dryly, vaguely satisfied with her handiwork.

Brushing herself off as she got up, Wilma frowned. The contents of the private hold were… incriminating… to say the least. Illegal and of suspect morals were more good ways to describe them. There wasn't much that could be done about the minimal paper trail from where she was trapped, at least not beyond the one laptop that was already crudely smashed at her feet. That wasn't even accounting for the physical evidence still sitting in the private hold, though.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a black-haired teenager fell into the bridge.

"WHAT THE?!"

The boy, who looked like a drowned rat, pulled himself off the upside-down ceiling, "I'll make this quick: My name's Danny, and I'm here to help you escape."

"… Danny…"

The name sounded familiar in the recent sense.

Before Wilma had the chance to question it, Danny had wrapped his arms around the helmsman and dragged him to the edge of the room. He squatted and steeled himself before they both **phased** though the wall into the open river.

Wilma forced herself not to think too hard on what she just saw. She was too lucid to be hallucinating. An Agatha Christie quote, 'the impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances,' seemed particularly applicable.

And getting into the inaccessible private holds just became _possible in spite of appearances._

While she mostly occupied her mind with how exactly she could pull it off, Wilma did briefly hope the helmsman wasn't submerged for too long. Unconscious people are not known for strategically holding their breath.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz sat at the river's edge watching things unfold. The creature controlling her brother cried out for help after he surfaced clutching a limp sailor. 'Danny' was looking more and more exhausted, but never actually winded, with each trip he made. He paddled partway with the man to the riverside, where he was met by a couple of sailors who took the man off him before turning around and diving back into the dark, cold waters.

It just didn't make any sense. Why would he be trying to kill her and Mom one second then go through such strain to save these sailors the next? The number of rescued people went beyond a good-publicity scheme.

Guilt for putting them in danger in the first place wasn't the answer. Premeditated first degree murder necessitated more morals be suppressed than manslaughter did.

Jazz mumbled under her breath, "Think, Jazz, _think_. You're a psychologist in training. You can reason your way through this." She willed herself to discard her emotions and think this out rationally.

"Danny and Dad are both possessed. When did they start acting strange?"

Jazz mentally gave herself pause. Dad was _perpetually_ strange. Perhaps 'out of character' was a better question.

"Dad got really irritable today. But did it start today? Yesterday he was uncharacteristically thoughtful and made breakfast. But the two moods were so different. Were they even connected?" Jazz was about to accept that Dad was possessed sometime this morning, when she remembered that Dad took her advice and decided _not_ to contaminate breakfast with Mom's ecto experiment. Sixteen years of experience told her Dad would _never_ turn down a chance to reanimate breakfast.

"The night before, a ghost had invaded the house. It might be connected. Danny got the portal working then. That was probably how it got here."

Jazz's heart sank as she imagined her brother turning on the portal and being rewarded with having his free will severed by the first ghost that came through.

But not just any ghost, the spirit possessing her brother addressed The Box Ghost as 'Danny _Plasmius'_. The fact that it shared the same name as her deceased infant half-brother didn't sound like a coincidence.

But there was one other person who was dead with the Plasmius name, someone who would reasonably be in cahoots with a 'Danny Plasmius'.

"Vlad Plasmius."

But why? Why murder?

If Mom did kill them both as Jazz suspected, then this is…

Jazz's eyes widened and her pupils dilated at the continuing train of thought.

"Oh god. This is… this is unfinished business: a revenge killing."

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The crowbar scraping on the concrete echoed in the warehouse. Sure, not dragging the metal rod would've been stealthier and made it easier to sneak up on Maddie, but Vlad liked the sound. The reverberation alone was sinister and ominous. He could only imagine in delight the terror that might fill Maddie's heart with her 'Jack' on the prowl for her corpse.

He would have his family again, and he would get his happily ever after. But loath as he was to admit it, Maddie was loyal to the oaf. It was perhaps her only flaw…

…But that could easily be fixed.

He snickered, "Come on out, Maddie. Let's talk this out." He struck the crowbar against a shelving unit. Its contents smashed to the ground.

"Come on… let's all head home and have some butter biscuits. You like those, don't you?" He hooked the crowbar on the leg of another set of shelving and pulled. The whole thing toppled and crashed.

"We can gather around the kitchen table and discuss our feelings… Do you know what I'm feeling, Maddie? I'm feeling lonely. Why don't you come on out and I can give you a biiiiiiig hug… Why… I could just _squeeze_ you to _death._"

Something small fell to the floor a bit behind him and made a small noise as it bounced, possibly a washer.

Maddie was probably baiting him. Vlad knew this. Vlad also didn't care.

… Because whatever trap he was walking into, he would enjoy with the full knowledge that it would be Jack who took the fall.

"Oh. What's this?" Vlad clapped Jack's hands to his face in mock surprise. Just inside his peripheral vision, Vlad caught sight of the teal-clad woman with her foot outstretched and airborne.

Vlad smiled as he released Jack from his control just before Maddie's foot made contact with Jack's face. Then, after Jack got knocked back, he resumed control, grabbed Maddie by both her legs and swung her into a wooden crate.

"What's the matter, Maddie? I thought you loved me? Is this what you do to people you love? How _primitive_."

He picked up the crowbar and threw it at her. Maddie gasped and dodged at just the right moment. The metal rod embedded itself in the crate and wavered an inch from her face.

Maddie lunged back into the fray and jabbed at Jack, hitting all the pressure points in range. The bulky man slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Vlad poked his head out invisibly from Jack's back.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Must we _really _keep doing this?" He slid back in, but Jack's body was unable to heed his commands. It was no matter. He could still work with this.

Vlad removed himself from Jack. Maddie sat by a nearby wall in outstanding distress, watching with complete paranoia of her husband lying limp on the floor.

And who was Vlad to disappoint her? He duplicated himself a few times, each duplicate grabbed hold of a limb, and they made themselves a Jack Fenton marionette. The human rag doll threw itself at the unsuspecting Maddie.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"Good, so I'm not hallucinating." Wilma flatly stated when the exhausted teen fell into the room for a second time.

"… It's that or it means I still am." She shrugged. "Either way, I'm not picky."

Danny replied by means of violently coughing up water. Wilma extended a hand and helped Danny up.

"You know… *hack* you're the first person to not pass out when they see me come through. … Well, assuming they weren't unconscious in the *cough* first place."

Wilma shrugged, "It takes a bit to weird me out. You should see my husband make 'tacos'. One of the ingredients: Chocolate bean dip."

Danny raised his finger and opened his mouth but paused. There wasn't really any point in talking about the Fentons' idea of 'cooking'. Instead, he just leaned against the wall in fatigue. "… Yeah, I can see how that's a bit weird."

The Flying Dutchman creaked ominously, returning the pair to the crisis at hand. "Come on, let's get out of here before things get really ugly."

Danny reached for Wilma's hand, but she slipped it out before Danny could grab hold. Danny gave a 'hey, what gives?' expression. But Wilma just held a finger up in silence.

"I'm assuming…" she started, "that if you can get us through walls, you could get into other parts of the ship…"

"Well yeah… I mean, I'm kind of doing that already trying to get everyone out of this sunken death trap," Danny replied, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

"Good, good. Then I need you to get me into a certain area of the Flying Dutchman. There's some… things I need to take care of," Wilma replied.

Danny shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I was actually in the middle of something really uh… important before all this happened."

_Not good not good not good._

Wilma kneeled down and put her hands on Danny's shoulders. "Listen, I shouldn't be telling you this, but unless I can get into the hold, sinking is going to be the _least_ of our problems. This boat will go flippin' _nuclear_ unless I can disarm it," she lied.

The story had the intended effect. Danny went from impatient to somber and slightly incredulous.

"Are you serious?" he finally replied.

Wilma reached for her wallet and flipped her badge.

"Nuclear Physicist: Wilma W. Weston. At your service." The badge actually read 'Bioengineering Dept. ~ Chief Specialist', but Wilma folded the object away before Danny could read it… not that anyone _ever_ did. Badges themselves manifest authority and power, and their owners are extensions of that.

"Alright… I'll help. Just… um which way do we need to go?" Danny studied his feet. His shoes were drenched and had a gross film from the river on them. "I, uh, can't exactly steer once we cross the barrier."

Wilma raised an eyebrow. That might explain the complete lack of grace with each entry. But rather than say that, she carefully picked up the formerly framed photo of the ship while it was in dry dock. "The hold where the disaster is waiting is about…" she dragged her finger on the photo, "here."

Danny looked over her shoulder, "Which would make it somewhere in this direction?" He pointed up somewhat angularly at the 'floor'.

"Yes, that's right… but before we go…" Wilma reached up to the cabinet inverted on the ceiling and rummaged until she found a handheld spotlight. "Alright. I'm ready."

Danny took her hand then stopped.

"You're seriously not weirded out by all this? I mean I just came through the walls… twice."

Wilma clutched her forehead.

"Kid, if we don't act soon, the river is going to light up and we're going to have one of the worst non-wartime disasters on our hands. I can afford to have a meltdown after I've prevented this one." The latter half was mostly true anyways.

Danny waved his free hand in a 'calm down' manner. "Okay-okay-okay… just a heads up, it'll tingle a little."

Before Wilma could question what he meant by that, Danny jumped and toggled their tangibility. She held her breath on reflex as they passed through the floor above them. Tingle didn't even begin to describe it. It was like taking a shower with vigorously vibrating cotton balls instead of water. It didn't tickle per se, but there was a distinct, if vague, sense of touch that coursed through her. In the brief moment after the floor passed through her stomach, she questioned if there were any side effects to passing her brain through several inches of metal.

And from there, she had the horrific thought of the floor getting stuck through her brain.

She didn't panic. There simply wasn't enough time to.

"Brace yourself," Danny warned. (Which begged the question of how he was able to talk normally while underwater.)

They passed up through the final floor, once they were clear, Danny dropped the intangibility and the pair landed in a heap. Wilma greedily took lungfuls of air. She probably should've checked if the pitch black room wasn't filled with water first, but thankfully it wasn't.

But no, that first part wasn't exactly true. Two dim green blinking lights interrupted the infinite darkness. They weren't in the hold the last time she was here. Wilma turned on her handheld spotlight and pointed it at the lights…

"AAAAAAAUUUGH"

…which immediately earned her a scream in her ears.

Danny recoiled back and viciously rubbed his eyes. "Ma'am! Watch where you point that thing! GAAAAH"

Wilma apologized. "Sorry, sorry. Do you by any chance wear special contacts?"

"No? My vision's just fine. Why?" Danny replied as he rolled over in a ball of agony.

"Nothing. Just wondering, that's all."

The private hold was a large, sealed-off, airtight steel room. About two dozen human-sized pods lay in various states of disarray on the ground. Capsizing continued to make Wilma's job difficult.

It certainly was unplanned, and certainly an accident, but Wilma wasn't one to turn a gift horse in the mouth. With Danny temporarily blinded and rubbing his eyes, Wilma reached into her pocket and pulled out her PDA and plugged it into the terminal of one of the least damaged pods that had tumbled onto the floor, né ceiling. A cracked and partially inverted screen came to life. She copied her files over.

The sound of muted but the distinct sound of emergency sirens outside gave Wilma pause. Danny noticed them too. The ambulances had finally arrived. The police couldn't be far behind. She silently cursed the scenario. Getting trapped on the bridge had postponed this act of anti-incrimination sabotage far too long. Under more ideal circumstances, she'd have been done by now.

Wilma eyed her PDA while turning it off then looked at the boy who was just now standing up. She couldn't leave… not yet… there were far too many pods that needed to run the purge script, but perhaps she could subtly use him to unknowingly smuggle some evidence out.

It was then that she put two and two together on where she heard the name 'Danny' before… and the gears in her head turned…

"This is going to take some time. You should go," Wilma nonchalantly suggested as she clacked at the keyboard.

"But-"

"No buts. You're being here doesn't do anyone any good. _Particularly_ if there are more people trapped in this rust bucket," Wilma scolded.

That had the intended effect. Danny switched from being still vaguely disoriented to something more aware and concerned. He nodded in understanding and turned to dive to the next trapped compartment.

"I'll be back for you when I'm done," Danny promised.

"Much obliged," Wilma replied.

_Now for the hook…_

Danny steeled himself before he dove when Wilma interrupted him, "Wait… Are you by any chance friends with my son, Wesley?"

Danny blinked at the question and broke from his pose. "Friends might be a bit too strong of a word…"

"He talks a lot about you, you know."

If Danny was expecting the conversation to go anywhere, that wasn't it.

"… He does?"

"Yes." There was a sanguine pause before Wilma added, "Mostly by yelling at the top of his lungs about how you're some evil ghost planted in the school. And how everyone's too incompetent or blind to see that fact, especially when you're using 'supernatural' abilities."

Danny paused.

"And you believed him? It would explain how collected, _relatively,_ you were when you first saw me come through the wall…"

Wilma laughed so hard her spit became projectile.

"Phwahahaha. Oh man, are you kidding?! Of course I didn't believe him. The boy's got such an overactive imagination, he totally gets it from his father's side."

Danny's face turned incredulous.

She chuckled.

"He says he's going to 'make it his mission to expose you.' Ah, such youthful spunk. Hehe aaahhhh," she wiped a tear of hysterics from her face, "guess that makes me the fool for not believing him." She tussled Danny's hair. "Well, mostly. You're certainly not evil."

Danny gave his best teenage glare at Wilma as he patted his hair back but was secretly somewhat appreciative of the last statement.

… somewhat.

Wilma reached into her pocket and removed her badge and held it and the PDA out to Danny.

"Do me a favor: I travel a lot and this job will see me in Louisiana by the end of the week. Can you see to it that these get to Wes? I doubt he'll be crossing paths with me before then. I forgot to give them to him at the game."

Danny stared at the items. "Don't you need your badge, though?"

"Eh, HQ's going to be giving me a new one down south anyway." It _wouldn't_ be a lie. They'd have no choice but to re-issue one if she 'lost' it.

Wilma was about to add a bogus sob story about the sentimental value of the badge for Wes, when Danny spoke up.

"If I do… would you promise not to tell anyone about me? I mean… once you get back, because you obviously are because I'll be coming back for you."

Wilma gave a sly grin.

"Don't tempt fate kid, but I'll keep that promise only if you promise not to repeat to anyone what's in this hold."

"It's a deal then."

Danny placed his hand on the items in Wilma's right and she clasped her other hand over Danny's and shook.

He then pocketed the PDA and badge and took off into the watery abyss.

"Well now…" Wilma extended her arms forward and cracked her knuckles, "Let's see how well I work under pressure." She humorlessly laughed at her own joke as she copied her purge program over the small local network to the _very_ illegal cloning pods as their contents dissolved.

* * *

Wvzgs rh mlg ornrgvw gl lirtrmzo xszizxgvih.

* * *

A portion of this chapter was inspired by the rather gut wrenching short story Intangible Tears by Agent Malkere. Saying anything about this Valerie- and Danny-centric fic will likely ruin the effect reading it might have, so I'll simply beg you to go and read one of the best short stories hidden here in the archives of FanFiction.

Part 1 is almost done. So to celebrate, we think it'd fun to try something slightly interactive. We'll tell you what that is next update.

See ya on the 29th.


	9. The Tragedy of the Flying Dutchman - 2

_Duality_

_Part 1: Family_

* * *

The Tragedy of the Flying Dutchman - Part 2

* * *

The EMT patted Jazz on the back.

"Aside from that bump on your head, you should be alright. Just get changed out of those clothes as soon as you can, and make sure to call one of us over if you vomit anytime in the next hour or so. Now if you'll excuse me-"

The EMT didn't give Jazz the opportunity to say 'alright'. He was already moving on to examining the next victim, but abandoned that task when one of the sailors caught sight of Danny resurfacing with an unconscious sailor. Danny had clearly long since pushed beyond his limits and struggled to stay afloat with the man. They went under more than once. A female crew member swam out to meet him and helped them reach shore. The EMT met them and was all business.

"This man has pedal paresthesia. We need to get him to the emergency room NOW," the EMT barked.

He relieved Danny of the injured man, who the EMT and the female sailor carried to the ambulance. The two of them sped off into the city just as two more pulled in. A marine rescue patrol boat moored itself over the Flying Dutchman. A couple of loud splashes broadcasted that two divers went under.

Danny watched the ambulance drive off until it was nothing but a dot in the distance. He made to turn around, but his knees buckled and he collapsed.

"Whoa kid… hold on there." One of the sailors jogged over and pulled him back up and tried to walk him to a nearby bench.

The ghost child protested, "No. I need to go back. Wilma is-"

"Stop it, kid. You don't need to play hero, not anymore. The rescue crew is here. They'll take care of it. Now _sit down_ before we have to send them in after _you._"

"But Wilma's still trapped inside the-" Danny protested.

The sailor picked Danny up and planted him on the bench.

"Didn't you hear a single word I said? The professionals are here, they'll get her out." The man's stoic expression softened as he tussled Danny's hair. "Ya did a good job today, kid. Be satisfied with that." Then he left to rejoin his companions.

"Why does _everyone_ feel like they need to play with my hair?" Danny asked in exasperation as he patted it back into place.

"That assumes it was even your hair in the first place."

Danny, startled at the unexpected comment, jumped in his seat.

Jazz was hovering over him, with her arms crossed.

Danny, stunned and dumbfounded, just stared and said nothing, mouth agape.

After what felt like an eternity, but was really only about four seconds, Jazz sighed and sat on the opposite side of the bench. Rather than make eye contact with Danny, she stared ahead at the emergency crews going to town on the sunken Flying Dutchman. Danny turned from her and faced the disaster himself. Both their faces were illuminated by the reflections of the blue and red flashing emergency lights. A diver surfaced with another survivor.

Danny was ultimately the one to break the awkward silence, "Why aren't you… I mean…"

"Why aren't I thrashing out? Why haven't I run? Why aren't I trying to exorcise you?" Jazz offered.

"I was trying to say: 'Why aren't you angry?'… but yeah… those are… those are good questions too." Danny finally managed to sputter out.

"I _am_ angry," Jazz replied in an unsettlingly neutral tone. "And scared, and disgusted, and… and I'm confused. I don't know who you think you are. I don't know what you think you're doing here, and I don't know what gave you the right to do all this." Jazz waved her arms in emphasis.

Silence fell over them as they watched the survivor being pulled to shore.

"Ah…" Danny finally offered.

The pair continued to not make eye contact and stared at the river. Another patrol boat joined in the rescue.

Jazz broke the silence, "So."

"…So?"

"So, why are you still possessing my brother? Or rather, why at all?" she clarified. Her voice was calm, almost academic, painting a sharp contrast to her tightly clenched fists.

Danny sighed. After thinking for a few seconds, he replied while scratching the back of his neck.

"You won't believe me, and you don't have to if you don't want to, but I didn't choose this." Jazz gave no reaction, so he continued. "I've been trapped in this body ever since I was pulled into your world. The reason I'm still in this body is because I _can't_ get out of it. Believe me, I've tried."

"…Pulled into?" Jazz asked.

"There…there was this storm…or something, in my world. I got too curious, and too close, for my own good. One moment the thing explodes and the next I found myself laying on the ground in this body." Danny pulled at _his_ skin in emphasis.

There was another awkward silence broken by the bullhorns of the emergency crews.

"My only theory behind my… situation… is your brother was doing something with the portal in the basement that trapped me here and got him seriously hurt in the process." Danny sighed. "That's… all I really know…"

"And my brother…is he still…" Jazz choked the words out, "is he in there somewhere?"

Danny broke staring at the river and looked down at his lap, "I'm sorry, but the only voices I'm aware of in here are my own." He knocked on his head in emphasis. "I don't know if he took my place somehow, or if he's still here, or dissolved or…" He sighed again not knowing what else to add.

Jazz closed her eyes and slumped.

"All I know is that while I can't seem to get out of this body, it's a constant test of my Dad's power to stay in your Dad's."

"Vlad, right? Your dad's name is Vlad."

Danny looked up from his lap in mild surprise to face Jazz. "How did you-?"

"I had my suspicions," Jazz curtly offered.

"Oh…" Danny replied, as if that explained it.

Jazz finally stood up and brushed herself off.

"Where are you going?" Danny asked.

"Where do you think? I'm going to go and try to save what's _left _of my family. I'm just wasting my time here." There was a particular ice to the word 'left' that didn't escape Danny's notice.

Jazz marched off and Danny scampered after her. His whole body, still freshly aching from the swimming, took a bit more effort to catch up with her. Jazz continued to face forward, but her eyes turned to the side where Danny was.

"Look, either try to stop me or _back off_," she snapped.

"Jazz, I'm not your enemy," Danny pleaded. These were exactly the wrong words that needed to be said.

Jazz stopped cold. She slowly turned to face Danny and exploded.

"'Not my enemy'? '_Not my enemy'?" _she repeated in mild hysterics. "You STOLE my brother's life, you LIED about it, you LET your _father_ take over _MINE_, and now you've chased me away so he can go KILL MY MOM IN SOME SORT OF BLOODY **REVENGE SCHEME**, so _EXCUSE ME_ if I don't feel the same way." She pulled her hair out of her face and continued to march back to the warehouse, leaving Danny behind.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The fight was ridiculously one-sided and in complete contrast to their skill sets. Maddie was a ninth-degree blackbelt. She jumped and lunged away from Jack's attacks. His movements were slow and lacked any form…

But while Maddie was unwilling to resort to lethal force on Jack, the feeling was most certainly _not_ mutual. The rag doll figure of her husband flew in the air at her. Even with her injury from the first surprise blow with the crowbar, she was able to deftly dodge.

But those lucky blows were gradually adding up. In contrary, none of her disabling moves had any effect on her husband.

"What's the matter, Maddie? You shouldn't run while indoors. It'll be the _death_ of you." Jack's laugh echoed through the warehouse.

… But no… it wasn't Jack laughing. It wasn't his voice. Even _Jazz_ would be forced to admit the supernatural was at play here.

Maddie turned the corner, sharply, and continued to run. Jack kept flying straight, smacked crudely against the wall in his way, fell backwards onto the floor and then, as if being picked back up off the ground, paused mid-air before continuing on at high speed after her.

An entirely sarcastic voice called out as if reading his script for a play, "Oh. No. Maddie. Look. Out."

One of the colossal shelving units fell over with no _apparent _prompting. Maddie skidded to a stop before it could crush her.

Then a second one abruptly fell and pinned her to the ground by catching her by the legs.

"Oh dear. Did I say that too soon? I meant to warn you about those shelves."

The body of Jack landed in front of Maddie and lay itself on the ground on his stomach. Jack's face completely covered Maddie's vision, and an unnatural grin formed by invisible fingers pulling at his lips plastered his unconscious face.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz pulled at the door handle. This one was locked too. She climbed back down the stairs and continued around the building.

Despite Jazz's best efforts to shoo him off, Danny continued to trail behind her from a safe distance. He never said anything, never interfered. His constant presence did little to quell Jazz's temper.

Eventually, just as Jazz had rounded the next corner, Danny spoke softly.

"You never gave me a chance…"

Jazz stopped but did not turn to face him.

"Never gave you a chance for what?"

"I wasn't trying to chase you away, I just… wanted to talk. But you ran and… things… kind of got out of hand from there," Danny confessed. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

Jazz willed herself to think rationally. She didn't quite succeed, which was understandable considering all that happened. But if 'Danny' actually never intended to harm her, it would potentially explain one away of the paradoxes of his behavior tonight, namely rescuing the crew of that ship.

It certainly didn't excuse any of his other actions, particularly those towards her brother, though.

Jazz reached the last door. Unsurprisingly, it was also locked. She slumped against the door, the stress of the night finally catching up with her.

An idea struck her and she looked up at the younger Plasmius.

"You're a ghost, right? Which means you can go through walls, shoot blasts, and fly and all that?"

"… Sort of?"

"And that means…?"

"My powers haven't really worked right since I got here. I get the feeling they're still there, but it's like…" he struggled for the words, "learning how to walk on stilts, I guess. I can do intangible at least." He phased his hand through the guardrail to demonstrate.

Jazz considered this.

"Then… you need to go in there and save my parents. Your dad can't be allowed to continue with this."

Danny was flabbergasted.

"Whaa?"

"Look, I can't get in there. You can. I may not like you very much, and I don't trust you any more than I can throw you. But my feelings be damned, you're the only one of us even _able_ to save them."

"Do… do you realize what you're asking of me?" Danny replied.

"You think I would be asking you of all people if I didn't? Yes! I know! I'm asking you to betray your spineless creep of a father and stop him from murdering my mom and to release my dad. Look, I understand he's your father, but he's a monster and this needs to end… or are you telling me that despite everything that you've told me, _the self-proclaimed victim_ in this scenario, that you endorse this?"

Jazz's words hurt.

"That's… that's not it." Danny sighed. "I just… I'm sorry, I don't like what's going on, but still, I… can't get between him and your mom." The idea of calling Maddie his mom as well just wouldn't come to him, regardless of recently revealed facts.

"So you _do_ support this," Jazz accused.

"No! That's not what I'm saying at all. He'll _kill_ me if I stand up against him."

"You don't know that. And, news flash, you're already dead. He's your father. If there's anyone he _might_ listen to, yo-"

Danny lashed out at the air, his eyes turned a bright, luminescent nuclear green.

"No! You_ don't_ get it. I won't_ just _die. I'll fade away to nothing!"

Jazz looked—not mad, like she'd been all night, but legitimately alarmed. Danny belatedly became aware of the green ectoenergy clouding around his fist, and sheepishly dismissed it. This wasn't the ideal time to recover an ability.

He slumped to the ground.

"I'm sorry. I just… how do I explain this?" He rubbed his eyes in stress.

"I don't know if you know this about ghosts or not… but we all have obsessions or unfinished business. They're what keep us together in the same way your skin keeps your insides where they need to be."

"Are you trying to say your father is your obsession? That you'll break down if you stand against him?"

"Heh, it's actually the other way around—sort of. I'm _his_ obsession. Or rather a part of it. Family is the most important thing in the universe to him—or it was when he died anyway. That's his obsession." He paused. "I… I don't actually have an obsession of my own. I… don't think ever I lived long enough to develop one." He sounded embarrassed at that fact.

"I thought you just said all ghosts have obsessions."

"I did say that." Danny shook his head. "But not everyone who dies automatically gets to become a ghost. I strongly suspect that if family wasn't my Dad's obsession, I wouldn't have become a ghost." Danny took a deep breath.

"He obsesses enough for both of us to be ghosts. It's like my ghostly existence… it's a… I'm a technicality, a loophole. I don't have an obsession, but I get away with it by being the _object_ of an obsession. But if he's forced to choose, I have little doubt he'll choose your mom over me. The obsession holding me together will be severed, I'll dissolve, and without a mind, this body will become an actual corpse."

Jazz glared at Danny. He quickly raised his hands up defensively.

"I don't mean that as a threat. I mean it as a fact. If I go, by force or otherwise, and your brother's out to lunch when that happens, then that's it. And consider if I were to succeed in breaking my dad away from your mom, then that'll sever his obsession with both your mom and then me out of spite. He'll fade, and so will I." He sighed in defeat.

"Any way it plays out, I lose."

Jazz rubbed the bridge of her nose. Normally she might be fascinated at the prospect of being the shrink for a ghost, but now was certainly not the time.

"Couldn't you just… find a new obsession? Then you wouldn't be relying on his."

Danny shook his head.

"It doesn't work that way."

"Fine then," Jazz huffed. She sat down next to Danny and pulled out a nail file and got to work on her nails.

Danny looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"But what about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"I thought you were dead-set on saving them."

"I was, but you just proved that there's no point. I mean, it's not _my _decision after all. It's all on you."

"That is _not_ fair. You have _no_ right." Danny waved an accusing finger at Jazz. "I don't want anything to do with this plot. It's not my place."

"The decision not to decide is _still_ a decision. Like it or not, these are your options. Looking at it from your perspective, your choices are either my parents kick the bucket, or you and your father do. But in a few hours, you'll be back home in ghost land with a complete family—everything works out for you."

"I never said I wanted that." Under his breath he added, "and actually it's _zone," _but couldn't be brought to actually voice the technicality.

"_Didn't you_? You made it perfectly clear that getting involved would be very bad for you, anyway. It's the same thing either way." Jazz switched to the next finger and continued filing.

"But that's not fair! You gain nothing and lose everything."

"Does that matter? The alternative is a lot worse, according to you."

"Of course it matters! You can't just sit down and accept this."

"Why can't I? You are."

"Well, maybe I shouldn't." Danny got up off his butt and dragged Jazz back to the door.

"And just so you know, reverse psychology is a _very_ obvious tactic."

Jazz gave a knowing grin.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah… it did," Danny sighed.

Jazz's tone of voice changed to something more tepid.

"So what made you change your mind? It is admittedly a lot to ask to give up."

Danny briefly considered this.

"Do you remember when the school was attacked by Skulker?"

Jazz was surprised by this question.

"Wait… you've been around since then? I thought you've only been here since when the portal got fixed the other day."

Danny shook his head.

"No, sorry. I've actually been posing as your brother since just before then."

Jazz looked like a connection was just made in her mind, but Danny kept going.

"Anyway, when Skulker appeared to take me back by force, your parents… they were heroes. They saved the football team. They saved me too, in a sense. They were willing to risk their lives to save others. Maybe they wouldn't have stepped in, or maybe they'd have done something differently if they'd known who I was. Likely, they'd turn on me, but I still feel indebted to them. I thought maybe I could—if I was seriously trapped in this whole 'living' thing—that I could try to live like they do—protect people. But I guess my life debt is a bit more literal."

Jazz mellowed as she processed everything Danny had confessed.

Danny shivered from anxious nerves.

"Come on, let's go save your parents before I get a chance to change my mind."

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

The pair of teens phased through the door and into the main floorspace of the warehouse. The area looked like a war zone. Products and shelving were smashed and thrown everywhere. Some aisles were completely inaccessible, filled with debris.

The light blood trail did not escape their notice and was unsettling to both.

After she shook off the sensation of going through the door, Jazz charged ahead and Danny trailed behind. They didn't travel far. The warehouse, while spacious, didn't leave much in terms of places to explore. Not to mention that Vlad's yammering provided a constant beacon.

Jazz stopped suddenly when she caught sight of her parents. Danny reacted too slowly and bumped into her back. A blue mist trailed out of his mouth as he did, but you didn't need a ghost sense to know which ghost was in the warehouse with them.

"Mom!" Jazz cried out.

"Kids? Wha—stay back." Maddie warned from her compromised location under the collapsed shelving.

Jack's limp body stirred, "Ung… Jazz?"

Vlad and his invisible clones were either too engrossed in bloodlust or simply didn't care enough to pay attention to the two teens and their sudden appearance. They lifted Jack back up off the ground, flew backwards with him, and then threw him like the 300-pound deadweight he was at Maddie.

"NO!" Danny pushed Jazz out of his way and threw himself at the airborne Jack. Danny weighed a scrawny 120 pounds wet (which he most certainly was considering recent events), so the unconventional use of a football tackle only managed to blow Jack partly off course. If Maddie hadn't shifted as much of her body to the right as she could just before Jack landed… well, it most certainly was still a close call.

Vlad fumed.

"What do you think you're doing, son?"

"Dad, you need to stop this. It's not worth it," Danny pleaded as he got up off of Jack.

"Not worth it? _Not worth it?" _Vlad bellowed. "Do you even hear the words you're saying?"

"He does, but do you?" Jazz added as she worked to clear the extra rubble on the shelving holding Maddie in place.

Jack moaned from his place on the floor. Vlad's reaction was to quickly unite with himself and dive into Jack before he could do anything.

"Look, it's surprisingly simple: Maddie dies. You die. That's all it takes for the family to be as it should," Vlad-as-Jack continued.

"You _monster_," Maddie spat.

'Jack' reached down to grab her, but Danny gave his arm a strong kick.

"I said to leave her alone!" Danny barked as Vlad jumped back.

Vlad's reaction was immediate.

"Insolent whelp!"

He grabbed Danny with powerful arms and chucked him across the room. Danny collided with another stack of shelving, and the contents buckled and dropped on him.

He turned intangible just as the first object hit him. As it was, he was harboring a massive headache and a pain in his back from the impact. It could've easily been a lot worse.

Vlad turned and clapped his hands clean.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, smirking. However, when he turned to face the tumbled shelving, Maddie was gone.

Vlad quickly spun around and caught Maddie leaning heavily on Jazz as they hobbled away to one of the exits.

Vlad picked the crowbar back up and brought Jack's arm back to throw it javelin-style at the girls.

"Oh no you don't!"

Before Vlad could process anything, Danny had jumped onto Jack's shoulders and was pulling at Jack's head and hair. The crowbar went flying with the sudden passenger and disappeared in the poorly-lit abyss. No one knew where it landed, only that it clattered as it hit the concrete far, far away from its intended target.

Vlad reached over Jack's back and yanked Danny off and slammed him onto the floor. It was too quick for him to go intangible. Danny fought off blacking out as stars spun in his vision.

"What do you think you're doing?" Vlad demanded as he towered over his son.

Danny gave a shit-eating grin.

"Hey, haven't you heard? It's called '_teenage rebellion_'."

This earned him a powerful slap to the face. His nose dripped blood, and he reached up to wipe it away. If he was going to die, he should at least do Jazz the favor of leaving her brother's body conscious and in good condition for as long as possible.

"_Daniel Plasmius_. I won't pretend to understand what's gotten into you, but this is beyond idiocy. The reprise of the Plasmius family is upon us. The trumpets beckon the encore. And you ignorantly stand in the way of fulfillment. This is the answer! This is the final, perfect solution. You make me sick."

Screw it, if this was the end, he wasn't going to go out without saying everything he'd ever thought against his father.

"And your grand solution is to murder when things don't go your way? You don't make me sick. You _repulse_ me," Danny goaded. "Look at you. Look at us! Our lives are long since over; we just haven't stopped long enough to realize it. However, Jack, Jazz, _and_ Maddie… they've still got room to grow. They deserve to see their stories to their rightful conclusion. You have no righ-"

Danny's speech was cut short as Vlad willed Jack's arm to lift Danny up by the neck. Bones crinkled. But it was more than physical distress. Danny could feel his whole being burning, singeing; like a protective heat suit had been breached. This wasn't an ecto-enhanced attack from Vlad… this was something far worse.

Vlad's obsession over him had decayed. Danny had crossed the line.

"Daniel Plasmius-" Vlad threatened through Jack's bared teeth, "I will let _nothing_, NOTHING, get between me and my prize. You speak of incomplete stories when the one being read is mere rabble. But the masterpiece is the one I intend to write. The artist must suffer for his work, and I'm willing to sacrifice _anything _to have it."

At any other time, Danny might've tried to point out the irony that it was everyone _but_ Vlad who was suffering for his scheme. Instead, barely hearing a word Vlad had said, he **screamed**. Luminescent embers spotted his skin and green smoke rose from Danny's body. As the severed obsession figuratively unraveled like a loose thread on a knit sweater, it literally exposed Danny to the final burning end.

Well… two could play at that game. Since it seemed he'd be burning either way, Danny mentally pulled back on the obsession.

"Are you now seeing the folly of your short-sighted heroics, little Plasmius?" Vlad questioned as he lightened his grip on the neck.

"Don't… call me… that." Danny choked out. His arms gripped on to Jack's in an attempt to break free as his feet dangled and kicked uselessly.

_Ba… bum_

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Vlad tensed.

"I said… DON'T call me that." Danny repeated, actively struggling.

_Ba-bum_

Vlad looked incredulous. "What are you-"

It was then that Vlad became aware of the weight of the air around them. It was heavy with power converging at an epicenter. It was pure will and drive. It manifested, jammed, and twisted itself into a previously unthought-of mass of barely-contained volatile pressure.

"If being a… Plasmius… ung… means murder to gain members, then I don't want to… be in this club… anymore."

_Ba-bum… Ba-bum…_

But this power being summoned wasn't natively Daniel's… it was his own… the very fiber of his being…

**_Obsession_**

And Jack's eyes went wide as it dawned on Vlad what Danny was doing.

"Daniel, no! The obsession – you can't!"

_Ba-bum-Ba-bum-bum-Ba-bum-Ba-bum_

"Consider this my resignation, you old bastard." Danny only wished he felt as brave as he hoped he sounded.

He severed the obsession.

* * *

Ezovirv'h wzw wlvhm'g fhfzoob dlip gsrh ozgv...

* * *

And with that, Part 1 of Duality comes to a close. What happens next? Well, that's partily up to you. The aftermath of this night impacted quite a few lives.

Your choices are:

• Vlad  
• Jack &amp; Maddie  
• Jazz  
• Valerie

These four short interlude chapters all take place at approximately the same time, and cover a different aspect of the consequences of that night so it technically doesn't matter who's perspective is told in what order.

We need some time to restock the buffer (a chapter tenatively titled "The Flu" has been particularly uncooperative.) So we'll be taking June off to recover and collect votes. July we'll post an interlude a week, and then Duallity will return in full force this August with Part Two! Until then, vote in the poll and enjoy the interludes to come!

atbash


	10. Interlude: Vlad

_Duality_

_Interlude 1/4_

* * *

Vlad

* * *

"No. I _don't_ CARE what time it is. Get the entire P.R. think tank up. You've got until _yesterday_ to turn this around." And before the sleep-deprived and underpaid secretary could get a word in, the CEO of Dalv Co. hung up.

Dalv Masters missed the era of the landline phone. If there was _one thing_ that was lost in the transition to the mobile world, it was the sensation of forcefully _slamming_ the phone on its base with a most satisfying rattle. A simple one-tone beep hardly had the same stress-relieving qualities.

Whatever there was to be found on the vessel would be found. There was no reason to stick around, so with a sigh of resignation, Dalv slid back into his car drove away from his spot in the warehouse parking lot overlooking the marina.

Dalv was a firm believer in being fashionably late, particularly with potential clients who have no leverage. Giving them a half hour, hour, or more to squirm on whether they got the right place or time was a very effortless way to evoke stress in the second party. And a stressed negotiator is a poor negotiator.

Dalv always made sure he was well-rested before those meetings.

On the other hand, there were occasionally days like today, when Murphy showed his face, and that planned late hour became an unplanned late hour… which became two, and then three late hours, and before long not even he could pretend it was —

Dalv's Porsche jolted in impact and the brakes _screeched _as he rammed his foot down on the breaks and stopped suddenly.

Dalv immediately got out of his car and slammed the door shut.

Face red, Dalv started yelling, "I am on a tight schedule and I am going to sue you for every last penny you're worth if… my… com… pany…"

Dalv stopped his rampaging threat as his mind struggled to change gears from rage to confusion.

There had been but a fraction of a second between the collision and Dalv getting out of his car. But beyond the sizable indent to his hood, there was no sign of whatever he might have struck. No automobile, no injured person, and not even a stray projectile, such as a cinder block.

Well… that wasn't _entirely_ true. Something glowing a radioactive green trailed the pavement. The business man kneeled before the alien substance. He prodded the matter with a gloved hand, confirming the viscous nature of whatever had been dragged across the blacktop.

Dalv may have otherwise dismissed the sight as the machinations of some prepubescents with too much time on their hands, but no, this green matter _pulsed. _And upon further inspection, some similar matter was found splattered on the hood, but not near enough combined between the two surfaces to justify the indent and impact.

"Curious…" he murmured to himself.

He picked up a larger sample of the material before turning the glove inside out into a makeshift pouch.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

At about the same time, Vlad Plasmius invisibly peeled himself off the parked luxury vehicle and continued staggering his way to Fenton Works and away from the warehouse.

Time. Vlad needed more time.

With more time he could have finished Jack off.

With more time he could have delivered deserved comeuppance to his confused and misguided son.

Vlad didn't have time.

He could only guess how much time he had to reach the ghost zone before he became irrevocably unbound from his obsession. The fact that his levitation had already given up on him wasn't a promising sign at all.

Vlad could still feel his obsession; it was there, but broken, hemorrhaging, and _most pressingly_, unable to sustain him for much longer.

He wasn't going to make it. There just wasn't enough _damned_ time.

His path became bathed in light and Vlad looked over his shoulder. Behind him, the car he had just collided with was following him.

And yet, Vlad Plasmius was still invisible. The driver couldn't possibly be following him.

Despite Vlad's self-assurance, he changed his pace. The car adjusted to match it.

Vlad changed direction. The car turned with him.

Perhaps… there was a way to turn this curiosity to his advantage…

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Dalv slowed his Porsche to a halt and stepped out.

There were easily more pressing, and more time-sensitive, things to warrant his full attention.

But Dalv couldn't seem to help himself as sloppy green footprints proceeded to materialize with the stride and grace of a local drunk. If it weren't for the unimaginably real indent on his luxury car, he'd suspect he was drunk himself.

But now, the prints led themselves into a secluded alleyway, which his car was now perfectly blocking. Whoever this curious invisible man was, he wasn't going anywhere now.

Though however unsurprising, Dalv didn't see anyone there as he made his way in. The footprints became less a singular path and more a jumbled rat's nest. He attempted feeling about where he thought the tracks actually ended, to no avail.

The man growled to himself. He had wasted enough time as it was to spend any extra on phantoms.

"Perhaps this was a prank after all," he said to himself.

"Hardly," replied an intruder.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Vlad Plasmius faded into view on the hood of Dalv's car, startling the man in question. Vlad put on his most charming grin as he did so, making sure to expose his elongated canines.

In truth, it was little more than an attempt at bravado. Vlad had reached the breaking point in being able to sustain concealment, and the grin was as much an intimidation tactic as it was a play to mask his own pain.

Dalv Masters made a visible effort to steel himself.

So the human felt intimidated. _Good._

"I couldn't help but notice that this is an odd place to be parking your vehicle," Vlad said as stroked the hood of the car from where he sat and eyed the now-obvious means of tracking. "You wouldn't happen to be planning on trapping something in here? Mm?"

The man's right hand balled into a fist while his left remained almost cupped over his pocket.

_Interesting._

The sharply-dressed man opened his mouth, closed it as if thinking better about what he were about to say, then actually spoke.

"Who are you with? What government?"

Vlad raised an eyebrow.

"Oh come now, you expect me to believe some political power would let this… this…" he waved his free arm in emphasis as he picked at the right word, "advancement in spy technology go unchecked?"

Keeping up a poker face when you're in immortal peril is difficult enough on its own without additionally fighting the desire to roll your eyes. The idiot was literally in the presence of a manifestation of death and all his little brain could wrap itself around was something out of a comic book.

"You could call me an independent. Although, I was hoping to change that…" Vlad replied while eyeing the cornered businessman. "How would you like to join me… Mr…?"

"You may refer to me as Dalv Masters." The unimpressed man crossed his arms. "And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?" He had the air of a man who had heard one too many pitches of this or similar natures.

Vlad gave a toothy grin and licked his lips. "_Power_. The likes of which you've never witnessed. The opportunity to be a part of something greater… Me."

"_Not_. Interested," stated Dalv with mild venom, glaring at the pool of green dripping over the grill of his car.

"Oh, you're one of _those_ types," replied Vlad dismissively.

The businessman narrowed his eyes. Vlad responded by making his glow even brighter, which visibly unsettled Dalv.

Vlad Plasmius jumped off the car and, before Dalv could act, draped an arm over his shoulder in an all-too-friendly and, above all else, certainly unwanted gesture. "Imagine it… you with the abilities of a ghost… intangibility, levitation, or even the ability to do this…"

Vlad's arms glowed briefly before shooting a small explosive blast at the ground before Dalv's feet. To his credit, the businessman didn't flinch, though that may have been due to him trying to remove Vlad's sticky arm from his shoulders with two fingers while making as little physical contact as possible.

"Mm hmm… And I can only _assume_ you're offering this out of the goodness of your heart." Dalv rolled his eyes. "What's the catch?"

"Catch?" Vlad made a series of patronizing tsk-tsk noises with his tongue. "There is no _catch_."

"Yeah… um… no. Not buying it," said Dalv. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got more important things that need taking care of.

Dalv turned to march back toward his car, but Vlad grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face himself.

"Focus, you nitwit. I'm presenting you the chance of a lifetime. Lesser men would give their lives for what I'm freely offering you," Vlad spat.

Dalv slapped the vampire-like ghost aside. "Unhand me, you cretin. I don't know, _much less_ _care, _at this point what you're actually selling. Nor do I get _why_ you _want…_ me to… take… it." The man's words slowed as a dawning formed on Dalv's face. "No… it's not that you want me to accept your deal … It's as though you _need _me to take it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Vlad countered whilst looking away.

"Don't you?" Dalv took a step forward and ground his heel in a puddle of ectoplasm. "Now, I'm no zoologist, or biologist, or whatever it _possibly_ is that applies to studying whatever you are, but I'd think that if this green material were blood, you'd have lost enough to kill a man five times over."

Vlad uncharacteristically said nothing.

Dalv chuckled darkly. "So it's not that you _want _me, and not even just that you _need_ me, you need me _now."_

Vlad made a dismissive noise. "How ludicrous."

"Is it? Is it _really_?" Dalv asked, getting unpleasantly close to Vlad's face.

"Now are you going to accept my gift or what?" Vlad snapped.

Dalv grinned devilishly. "Now now, why rush these things? It'd be a shame to make any sort of decisions we might regret. Why don't you go home and we'll all sleep on it."

"You presumptuous _in-sect_," Vlad hissed, complete with forked tongue. All trace of worry was wiped from his face and replaced with something so positively predatory that it gave Dalv pause.

"You think yourself so clever. 'Aww… I figured out the big bad ghost's motives.'" Vlad mocked heartlessly. "Never it be said that I didn't try to do this the easy way."

Before Dalv could open his mouth to question, Vlad's arms and eyes burned in violent magenta. It was the only warning before the ghost lunged and immediately phased into Dalv's chest.

The man yelled and actively trembled, as if a strong electric current was running through his body. His hands locked his head in a vice grip and he dropped to the ground. The ability to stand was both impossible and irrelevant as his mind went to war with itself.

Memories, simultaneously foreign and familiar, clashed as they painted pasts contradictory and nonsensical.

_Graduating business school with a masters degree in dairy farming. Discovering how to stabilize ectoplasm by investing $30K in low-interest commercial districts. Rocking out on stage in a punk band at a suit and tie symphonic concerto._

Dalv struggled to pick apart which aspects were his, and which were alien, but the memories kept flying and the entire situation was nothing like anything he could possibly have prepared himself for, and his grip on himself was slipping…

_Getting happily married and ready to spend the rest of his life with a complete stranger. Earning his first million dollars by adopting a cat. Pulling a gun on the pleasant dude from marketing who always brings extra coffee for everyone at the meetings._

Subject matter and intensity aside, it was not unlike Stage 1 of non-REM sleep.

Sleep.

In some distant level of Dalv's mind… he understood the intruder was trying to _invoke_ unconsciousness on his mind. In other words, Vlad was compelling the dominant mind to become the dormant mind.

_Lamenting having to spend holidays alone with close friends and family. Having an allergic reaction to the Packers winning their first Super Bowl. Standing on the cutting edge and advancement of antiquities. _

It didn't make sense; he didn't understand what he was doing, but Dalv Masters reached out and fought it.

_Ice cubes down the back. The blare of an alarm clock. Kids crying. A fat man in an orange jumpsuit hugging a wom—_

Dalv was knocked back with the recoil of Vlad shooting out of his body. Dalv forced himself to stand before getting a chance to regain his sense of up and down. He staggered drunkenly and leaned on the concrete wall of the building behind him for support.

"What… was that?" Dalv asked softly in a mix of shock and stupor.

Vlad Plasmius, for his part, looked significantly worse for wear. He lay limp on the ground while taking harsh, uneven breaths. A puddle of green was quickly collecting around the perimeter of his body.

But Dalv didn't get a chance to even think of escaping. Just seconds later, Vlad peeled himself off the ground and with feral abandon rushed at Dalv while yelling gutturally. Dalv's arms instinctively protected his own neck and face, but the terror simply crossed into him unimpeded.

But this time, the assault on Dalv's mind was tired, worn, and weak compared to the one he had just thwarted. In fact, it was practically effortless to reject the invasive entity.

_Pulling back the wedding veil and ready to kiss - that guy from before._

Vlad was rejected from Dalv's body with similar force as before. He landed in the pavement to continue sliding on it painfully for a good yard and a half before stopping. His arms and legs fell limp.

Dalv stood, hunched over, clutching his heart as he tried to both calm down and recover from the surge of adrenaline. He watched the monster with suspicion, waiting for another go.

Instead, Vlad stayed put. Upon closer inspection, not only was he still leaking that green viscous material, but his formerly solid form was starting to look soft and malleable, not unlike jello.

Dalv lurched over to Vlad and gave him a solid kick. There was something somewhat stress-relieving about leaving a shoeprint-shaped indent on his face. He followed up by grabbing Vlad's hair and pulling it up so he had no choice but to make eye contact.

"For all your so-called _power,_ you're actually quite pathetic," Dalv said with mock sympathy. "Who is that box-shaped man, and just what sort of power does he have over you?"

Vlad Plasmius glared silently. It might've been more intimidating were his face not sporting a shoe print.

"Tsh. Whatever. I know your weakness; that's all that matters." Dalv paused as he considered all this. "So… consent… you need that don't you? You were so set on me agreeing to your idiotic self-serving narcissistic deal… but then you negotiated."

Vlad laughed and a non-coincidental amount of saliva sprayed on Dalv. "That's a laugh. You think I'd willingly deal with an ill-bred mongrel like you."

Dalv frowned and dropped Vlad's head, letting it hit the pavement unpleasantly.

"No, no you wouldn't. But then, you don't really have a choice do you?" Dalv said as he took a cursory view of the area beyond his abused car.

It was probably 3:00 AM. There probably wouldn't be human activity around for another three hours.

Rather than reply, Vlad's arms glowed magenta again and he reach weakly for Dalv.

Dalv, rather than try to dodge, merely waved a single condescending finger 'no' and said, "I may not be an expert in whatever it is you are, but you look positively half dead. How much time left do you really have? Can you afford being thrown out a third time?"

Vlad held his position, hesitating, but didn't actually dismiss the flames. It looked to Dalv like Vlad was seriously considering trying again anyway.

"My, my. That a difficult a decision for you? You're either desperate or stupid, but I admire your tenacity, and while I'm no fan of your pedigree," Dalv said with obvious distaste, "It'd be a shame to let a potentially useful specimen like you go to waste. So why don't you start over and tell me _exactly _what you can do, what you are, what you need, and what makes you tick and this time, I'll be the one dictating terms."

Vlad made to open his mouth but Dalv interrupted. "And just so you know, I deal with lying cutthroats every day, and I wouldn't have climbed to the top if I wasn't _darned_ good at reading them. So please, don't _bother_ wasting our time. Granted, there's little I can do to stop you from trying and failing, but I get the impression your time is more limited than mine."

Dalv pulled out his smartphone, opened it up to the clock app, and stood it up so it remained conveniently in Vlad's field of vision.

Dalv Masters wondered why he'd ever thought smartphones were a bad idea.

* * *

Rmhfizmxv xlnkzmrvh uildm dsvm tvggrmt xozrnh rmxofwrmt ksizhvh hfxs zh "R wrwm'g hvv srn dsvm sv srg nb uilmg vmw.", "R ulooldvw srn rmgl z wzip zoovbdzb.", zmw "Sv dzh zoivzwb wvzw."

* * *

Sorry about posting a week late. We weren't expecting Vlad to take half the votes, and by the time we realized he was going to win the contest, we hadn't actually started his interlude. Whoops!

Anyways, you may still vote for the next interlude. Remaining choices are Jack and Maddie (as one interlude), Valerie, and Jazz.


	11. Interlude: Jazz

_Duality_

_Interlude 2/4_

* * *

Jazz

* * *

"Ma'am, if I could just finish taking his statemen-"

"He is in no condition, and he's _said_ as such himself. Now **get out** or I'll have security drag you."

Amity Medical's ER was a madhouse with half drowned and/or injured workers, overtaxed paramedics, overbearing police, and the odd walk-ins having no connection to the tragedy at the harbor.

"This woman has a fractured fibula."

"_Another_ one? We're out of beds."

"Swap her with the guy in A-3. His injuries are the least severe. He can sit in the waiting room for now."

"I got Dimmsdale's Dispatch on line 3. They say they'll have their people over here in about 20 minutes."

Jazz was no stranger to the emergency room; it was an unfortunate, yet expected, part of the experience being children of eccentric inventors. While she'd seen it overcrowded and understaffed before, it didn't compare to the pandemonium of the current crisis. All she could do was sit and watch the chaos.

Well, _that_ and watch her brother, who wasn't actually her brother.

_Danny_ was seated opposite her in the waiting area, pointedly looking in any direction, but hers that is, while hugging his legs while repeatedly muttering something unintelligible to himself under breath.

Jazz mentally tuned out the background noise and studied him. The bruises that he had earned during the fight with Vlad had turned from their original black and purple to discolored green-yellow. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that the injuries were a few days old, rather than a couple hours. For that matter, Danny wasn't acting _injured_ so much as distressed.

If being possessed by a ghost resulted in enhanced healing, then it was disconcerting to think the same person who was actively trying to kill her parents was at the same time, however incidentally, responsible for preventing her Dad's injuries from being worse than they already were.

Jazz shook her head and dismissed that morbid train of thought. Her family was alive and getting treatment right now. That was all that mattered.

… Well, _most_ of her family anyway.

Danny noticed she was staring at him and pulled his legs in tighter while burying his eyes in his knees. His dark bangs draped on his upper shin.

It took Jazz a moment to realize she was self consciously reaching for a magazine on the table between them.

It didn't make sense. _This_ Danny had lied to them all, knowingly harbored a man with murderous intent, and all she really had was his word that her brother wasn't in there somewhere.

So why was _she_ feeling guilty right now?

"Would the Fenton children please report to the front desk?" called a woman's voice in a lifeless monotone.

Jazz reflexively got off her seat, but caught herself about to drag '_Danny_' with her. After a moment's deliberation, she left him there and weaved her way to the desk.

"You are Jazz Fenton?" The woman chewed the words out like week old bubblegum and it reminded Jazz of an unpleasant librarian she once had the displeasure of dealing with.

Jazz had opened her mouth to reply, but the woman just talked over her unimpeded while waving her hand lazily in a dismissive gesture.

"It goes without saying, your Dad was a piece of work," the woman preambled as Jazz wondered bitterly who would hire this woman for her people skills.

"…but both of your parents are in stable condition. We'll be keeping them for observation, though. You'll get them back sometime tomorrow." She turned her gaze to her garish watch. "Or rather, _much _later today."

"That's go-"

"—So _scram_. You're taking up space." She pressed the intercom button. "Would Mr. Olson please report to the front desk?"

Jazz was tempted to stay rooted where she stood on principal, but the approach of who was presumably Mr. Olson made the idea less appealing. She was willing to be difficult at the secretary's expense, not the people who would have to deal with her regardless.

Whatever. She wasn't worth wasting breath over.

Jazz reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys to the Ghost Assault Vehicle. It was a good thing she passed her driver's test 3 months ago. With Mom and Dad incapacitated, and no other living relatives in Illinois, finding a way home at 4 o'clock in the morning would've been troublesome.

She turned to the waiting area. "Come on, let's g… oh."

The seat her 'brother' was sitting in was empty.

Jazz briskly walked over to the chair and started feeling the air where he last was seen, hoping he'd only turned invisible. Ghosts do that sort of thing right?

With gritted teeth, Jazz said, "Come on _Danny._ Let's _go…_"

Jazz felt stupid. She should have known better than to take her eyes off him for a second.

"Are you okay ma'am?"

Jazz slowly turned while keeping her hands roughly where Danny's shoulders might be.

"I'm… *cough* just fine," Jazz replied unconvincingly.

"I… see…" the man replied, who did not see. "If you're looking for the boy, he just left a moment ago."

He pointed to the exit.

Jazz didn't bother to thank him or make an excuse. There was no rational thought. One moment she was standing awkwardly over a chair, the next she was running for the exit, almost hitting the automatic sliding doors in the process.

Her eyes darted left and right and her heart pumped wildly. It was almost pitch black aside from a few street lights and the odd building light. It was October. The sun wouldn't be up for another three hours or so.

Where did he go?

The street was packed with parked cars. To her left an ambulance was offloading another victim. To her right was the bus stop.

Jazz ran to the right, but half way there, she realized that the station was unoccupied. She was tempted to continue running to try and catch up to him, but she stopped as she realized that he could've just as easily gone the other direction.

Hell. He could've even continued walking straight and phased through the building that was standing there.

Her legs felt weak and shaky, and she wanted to collapse into a ball right there on the sidewalk, but she remained standing out of pure stubbornness.

She nearly lost two family members to ghosts. She _wasn't_ about to lose another.

"You okay?" a voice asked from behind her.

Jazz turned sharply.

Danny was seated to the immediate left of the entrance to the hospital and below the window. Jazz had marched past him and hadn't realized it.

Jazz could hardly control herself and took out her frustrations. "_What_ are you _doing_ outside!? I thought you had _ran_! I had _no idea_ where you were! Do you have _any_ idea how much I'm ready to flip out right now!?"

The boy stared at the ground. "I… I'm sorry. I just needed some… air."

Jazz opened her mouth to challenge that. The most glaring problem being that he waited until she was gone and distracted to step out. In all likelihood, he _did_ intend to leave, but didn't in the end.

But rather than voice that thought, she twirled the keys to the GAV.

"Come on. It's late. Let's go back."

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Jazz was exhausted, but she remained focused on the road as she drove the GAV. Between dealing with the realization of her mother's past marriage and the death of a half-brother, finding out that the spirit of that half-brother was now possessing her living brother, and fighting to save her mom from her father, who was similarly possessed by the spirit's own father, it was a small wonder Jazz still had her head attached. She needed a break, but that would have to put off until the entire mess was over.

When they left the hospital, Danny had begun to tell her about everything from the start: a brief description of life in the Ghost Zone, the accident, what had happened between him and Danny's body, the attempt to get back to his own home which instead had brought Vlad to hers, and everything else up to the incident they all had just survived. He sputtered everything out all at once so fast that Jazz had to persuade him to slow down and take deep breaths on several occasions.

It still felt really weird that Mom had named them both Danny.

Jazz couldn't truly be sure that _this_ Danny wasn't lying to her, but she figured it lay on either of two extremes on a spectrum. Either this was a rehearsed lie with enough truths sprinkled in to be convincing, or this really was the broken confession of a lost kid scared out of his wits. Jazz was leaning towards the latter, but even _if_ Danny never actually did intend to replace her brother, _if_ what he said could be taken as true, he had lied to everyone and knowingly harbored the man who almost killed them all. It would be _beyond_ stupid to accept anything he said without some manner of scrutiny.

Which meant that there was the distinct possibility that Danny Plasmius was lying about her brother not being in there, somewhere: trapped, a prisoner in his own body.

But the spirit was seemingly convinced that even if he could un-possess her brother, the body would die for real if her brother's soul wasn't there to take back control. So, even if Jazz had the means to forcibly rip the ghost out of her brother, it wouldn't be worth the risk to be potentially proven wrong.

Well, she didn't have the means at any rate, but her parents certainly did. Jazz found herself empathizing with the ghost, but Stockholm Syndrome was a very serious judgment-clouding phenomenon. No matter how benign the ghost may or may not truly be, he was still parading around in her brother's body, and that could _not_ be forgiven, and would be addressed when the opportunity arose.

But Mom and Dad were a "shoot first, ask questions later" sort when it came to ghosts, and might prematurely rip young Plasmius from Fenton's body, so until the day she could be absolutely certain that Danny Fenton was in there and could be revived...

Jazz stole a glance to her side. The ghost possessing her brother was staring out the passenger window. He'd been silently watching the world go by ever since completing his story.

At least it was a step up from his state in the waiting room.

"I… can't feel the obsession anymore," Danny said in a small voice, barely breaking the silence.

Jazz pursed her lip as she considered what the ghost had said about obsessions back at the marina. "… I don't know how to ask this sensitively, but how much time do you have left?"

"I don't… I shouldn't…"

Jazz silently kept her eyes on the road as the boy to her right struggled with words.

"I _should_'ve dissolved back in the warehouse. So I… So I _just_ don't know… I don't know _why_ I'm still here. I don't know _what_ I'm going to do. I don't even know _who_ I am anymore."

The boy flopped his arms at the window's base and rested his head on them.

"What do you mean by that?" Jazz asked.

"What was he like?"

The question was so disconnected from the leading confession that it caught Jazz off guard. "Who?"

"Your brother, I mean," he clarified.

Jazz paused. It felt weird having her brother ask about himself, even if it wasn't _truly_ him.

Eventually, she replied in a neutral tone. "I dunno… normal, I guess. Kept to himself and his friends mostly. Likes video games and astronomy but hated to study. Why do you ask?"

"Before… I just kinda accepted that I'd be tethered to Da-I mean, Vlad."

Jazz listened in silence as she turned off the highway.

"Don't misunderstand. It wasn't really a bad existence," he clarified. "But now… now that I've seen what he's _willingly_ capable of… I don't know that even if I _could _go back to the ghost zone, I don't know that I'd _want_ to go back to that… especially after that fight." He subconsciously rubbed one of his bruises. "I don't know the extent of what I've done to him… but I'm willing to bet he'll hold a grudge over it…"

"Vlad… he tends to act on grudges," he added.

"I… see…" replied an unsettled Jazz. "But what does that have to do with knowing more about Danny?"

The boy sighed in defeat. "How can I continue to pretend to be someone I'm not… when I don't even know who I am anymore? Where does the façade end and where do I begin? What if the facsimile is all there is?"

Jazz didn't reply. She wasn't sure herself.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"We're here," Jazz announced as she parked the oversized RV.

Danny pulled himself from his thoughts and looked around, "But this isn't Fenton Works...?"

"Nope," Jazz said, unclipping her seat belt and opening her door. "But aren't you hungry? Hospital food is the worst, after all."

The boy's stomach responded in his stead, but he added, "Not nearly as bad as your parents' though. At least at the hospital, the food chain is in the right order."

Jazz snickered, and then climbed out. "Come on, my treat."

They both went inside, ordered, and took a booth in a secluded corner of the Nasty Burger. After they received their food and started eating, Jazz noticed that Danny's mood seemed to lift a little bit, if the face he made while wolfing down a burger was any indication. Her mood improved too, although she ate less ravenously.

"Just so you know...you're not alone anymore."

Danny paused his scarfing, burger frozen in hand mid-lift, and stared at her.

"Let's be honest," Jazz continued, "a household of ghost hunters probably isn't the safest place for a stranded specter to live."

Jazz watched as he placed his burger down, "So you think I should run away then?" he said, just barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh no, no no no." There was no way Jazz was going to lose track of her brother's body. "What I meant was: if there's anything I can do to help you stay under the radar or fit in, or even if you just need someone to talk about anything, my door is open for you."

Danny appeared to cautiously consider this.

"Why don't we start ourselves off on the right foot?" She held her hand out, "I'm Jazz."

Danny looked at the outstretched hand uncertainly, and made a slow act of swallowing down the burger before reaching out and shaking it. "Danny."

So long as the ghost didn't give her a reason to react otherwise, Jazz decided that she would treat him with the care and respect she'd offer to anyone. Even if he wasn't alive, he was still as person, with all the insecurities, anxieties, and all the baggage that came with it. The fact that he wasn't alive, or technically human, anymore shouldn't affect her view of him.

"Ok, so I'm pretty sure you're the only one who knows me, like me-me, and the people on the boat were too freaked out with Boxy to notice me popping in...but there's actually this one guy at school who's seen me go intangible twice-"

Still, Jazz thought to herself, it hurt knowing that when she smiled reassuringly at her "brother", it was only her brother's face smiling back at her, and not him.

* * *

Gsrh rh mlg z hvxivg nvhhztv

* * *

Sorry about the late posting.

Anyways, took a long time, but the story's description finally makes it's appearance. We'll probably be changing that once we get to part 2. For as far as this story's gotten, it _still_ hasn't hit what we wanted to write this fan fic about.

So Jazz one the votes for this round. All that's left now are Valerie and 'Jack &amp; Maddie'.


	12. Interlude: Valerie

_Duality_

_Interlude 3/4_

* * *

Valerie

* * *

Valerie panted as she peddled her bike home from Casper High late at night. Her pace was markedly slower than normal. Running just over three miles had taxed her stamina a little more than she'd like to admit. On the other hand, getting fourth place overall, _and_ first for the girls on Casper High's cross-country team on today's match would certainly be the topic of tomorrow's gossip at the A-Lister's table.

A squad of police cars raced by in the opposite direction, kicking up some gross runoff water and spraying Valerie in the process. She veered in surprise, and nearly collided with a mailbox.

"_HEY_! WATCH IT!" Valerie yelled at the car. The driver gave no sign that it had noticed her as it turned down the state road with the rest of the fleet.

Valerie scrunched up her tank top, squeezing some of the dirty water out. The right and back sides of her backpack had taken the brunt of the splatter. She didn't need this. If she was lucky, it'd only be her change of clothes that got water damage and not her notebook with the assignments she'd missed the other day. Valerie decided to wait until she got home to take inventory of the damage. She was only three blocks away, in any case.

When she turned the corner for Elm Street she hit the brakes. Across the intersection, an unfamiliar black car was parked in her driveway in place of her dad's.

The dry hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she peddled the rest of the short distance to her house and dismounted the bike, leaving it by the back door.

She took out her key and inserted it into the lock, but it had already been unlocked.

Valerie dropped her book bag. The house was a disaster. Chairs were knocked over, drawers were left open in the kitchen, and the filing cabinet had been gone through. Folders and papers were spread haphazardly through the house.

"What in the…," Valerie muttered under her breath.

But there was no time to finish that sentence. Something glass broke in Val's dad's room, followed by sound of a female voice swearing.

_Shit._ She was still in the house.

The doorknob turned, and before Val realized what she was doing, she dove underneath the dining room table. The long, draping tablecloth both masked her presence and obstructed her view.

"What was that?" the intruder called out.

Valerie unconsciously held her breath.

A light switch was flicked and the room was bathed in light. The woman walked around the house, and at one point came uncomfortably close to Valerie's hiding spot. The intruder wore polished black leather boots and dark blue jeans.

"… Must've been my imagination," the woman stated flatly.

The pair of boots marched into the kitchen and around the corner.

After what felt like an eternity, Valerie crawled out from under the table.

A phone. She needed a _phone_. But first…

She looked around for something to defend herself with. A baseball bat would be preferable, but the next best on hand item was a flower vase. Valerie clutched the vase tightly with both hands, then crept back to the entrance where her backpack lay. She set the makeshift weapon aside and opened the bag.

_ZIIIIIIIIIIIP_

She winced on reflex. Valerie hadn't realized just how much noise her bag made when it was opening before this very second.

Valerie sat perfectly still, listening intently. The door to her Dad's room must have been open, since she could clearly hear drawers being slammed sequentially.

Letting out a slight breath, Valerie pulled out her phone and silently swore when the screen didn't light up, and continued to not light when she held the power button down.

The phone was useless, and her cross-country uniform lacked pockets on top of which. She put the phone down and crept to the hallway to her dad's office.

In retrospect, it would've been all too convenient if the office had a door, much less a lock. Valerie sat in the swivel chair and picked up the phone and—.

*Click*

Valerie froze stiff at the sound of a gun being cocked from behind her head.

"Put your hands on your head… _slowly_," the intruder ordered.

Valerie hesitated, but eventually did exactly as she was told; albeit she did so with an expression that was equal parts anxious and angry.

"Now… turn around," the woman ordered.

Valerie swallowed a breath, and steeled her face, then turned in the chair to face the woman with the gun.

Whatever Valerie expected the woman to do, abruptly lowering the gun wasn't extremely high on that list.

The woman's eyes went wide. "You-"

But she didn't get the opportunity to complete that sentence. Valerie pressed the distraction to her advantage. She bolted from the chair, and using the thrust of Casper High's best girl's varsity runner, with the fist of an amateur boxer, she sucker-punched the intruder. The woman braced herself at the last minute before going down, but Valerie wasn't going to waste time with her. She quickly hurtled over the woman and scrambled for the back door, where she had parked her bike, and using energy she thought she had all but spent, she raced to Amity's Police station.

The station was only five blocks away from where she started. Valerie pedaled as hard as he could. The rain had picked up and the sun had long since set. She was cold, wet, tired, and perhaps for the first time in her life that she could admit, if only to herself, actually frightened.

She could barely see where she was going, barely think a single coherent thought. The rain poured down particularly hard as she plowed turned off-road for a shortcut through Kwan's back yard.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

Lieutenant Baxter didn't hesitate to roll his eyes at his superior. It might've earned him a reprimand, if the Amity police chief was there in person instead of on the phone.

If he cared to dwell on it for any length of time, it might clue him in on why he was singled out to man the station while the rest of the department was at Amity Harbor.

"Listen up, gumshoe. We're going to be here all night. We've got our hands full with the rescue, never mind the investigation. Situation is under control here, but I want an APB out for that floating felon. Suspect was last spotted soaring southbound for St. Louis," ordered the no-nonsense Chief of Police.

"Got it, Chief," replied the Lieutenant. He held the phone closer to the table than was strictly necessary so she could hear him diligently writing her orders down on the station's stationary.

"Good. Hold down the fort."

And with that, the phone went dead.

Lieutenant Baxter immediately got to work on that APB by carefully balling up his note and making a two-point shot in the wastebasket on the other side of the room.

Baxter could admit that the chief was good, _darned_ good, at her job, but her tendency to alliterate ticked him off.

Besides, ghosts? What hogwash. No one could possibly be dumb enough to believe that.

However, the lieutenant believed in coincidences about as much as he believed in ghosts. _Something_ happened at Casper High a few weeks ago, and _something_ was going on at Amity Harbor _right now_. (And consequently why he was the odd man out to man the station.) A connection between the two was difficult to point out beyond the destruction and "ghosts", though.

Maybe some weird gang or cult had moved in? The kids all claimed the robot thing was after some 'ghost child'… even his son, Dash, had sworn it. He'd normally laugh it off as some elaborate out-of-control hoax or prank if $80,000 worth of property damage hadn't been amassed at Casper High, and while Lieutenant Baxter didn't really know the first thing about boats, he was pretty sure that they cost much more than a few million dollars, and that wasn't even counting whatever the thing was carrying.

These '_ghosts'_ were a menace an-

The door to the station burst open with a forceful slam and Lieutenant Baxter's hand reached for his holster on reflex. His hand relaxed when he recognized the intruder as one of Dash's friends. _Valerie_, he thought it was. The African American girl, 100 pounds, 5'10", the lieutenant guessed, was drenched and tracking in mud.

Upon seeing the officer, Valerie dashed for teller window. Inch-thick bulletproof glass divided the police officer from the civilian.

The girl spoke almost faster than the lieutenant could keep up.

"Oh thank god you've got to help me my home there a break in there was this woman who was going through all our stuff I tried to call but before I could the woman she was about to shoot at me I ran-"

"Woah, whoa, whoa now. Hold on a second," said Lieutenant Baxter as he crossed around to the lobby. He quickly swiped an unopened water bottle from the counter on the way. He'd apologized to Debora for swiping it later… if she noticed… maybe.

The officer handed the teenager the water.

"Drink this. Then start over," he said.

Valerie looked like she was going to fight him on this, but took the bottle and drank anyways.

As she did, Lieutenant Baxter asked the basics as he pulled out his notepad.

"Now, I want you to start over from the beginning. Who are you? What exactly happened? Who was in-"

Lieutenant Baxter was rewarded with a mouth full of water sprayed in his face at point blank.

The man snapped. "What are you thinking?! You little-"

But the teenager's intent fearful focus was on something behind him. Baxter turned. A woman with her arms crossed, who had not been there earlier, was standing at the entrance with a manila folder.

She was wearing a gun holster.

Lieutenant Baxter moved between her and the teenager.

_Of all the nights…_

"I'm going to have to ask you to take the weapons off and put your hands in the air," he ordered, stern and no-nonsense.

The woman, for her part, rolled her eyes at the instructions, but complied anyway. "Tsh, of course of all people, it'd be Baxter."

"Do I know you?" the lieutenant asked as he approached and kicked the gun out of the way.

"In a sense. We go way back," The woman replied. "Does the name 'Angela' ring any bells?"

As a matter of fact, it did… though in the same way that Bob, Jane, and Betty did. Common names. It didn't narrow it down any.

Changing the subject, Baxter asked while gesturing to the gun, "Do you have a permit to carry this?"

"It's there in the folder, amongst other things of relevance," Angela replied.

Without taking his eyes away from her, Baxter picked up the folder and gun off the floor and sifted through the papers. _Angela Silver_ was the name on the topmost document. Now that name _did _sound familiar, though he still couldn't actually place it.

"Why aren't you arresting her!? She tried to shoot me!" the young girl spat.

Baxter sharply turned to the woman, who tilted her head, unimpressed.

"One: I never shot anything or anyone. Two: No one was supposed to be at my home at the time. I drew it as a precaut-"

"'_Your home'_?" the teenager interrupted, "She's _lying._ I've never met this witch, much less _lived_ with her."

"_You_ were supposed to be at child services," Angela countered pointedly.

"_What?" _the teenager snapped. "Why would I be there?"

For a moment, the self-absorbed attitude of the woman deflated as she responded, "I think it's best if Mr. Baxter explains this, if you really don't know."

The girl stomped her foot. "What nonsense are you sputtering?"

The lieutenant chose to ignore the spat and continued to skim the papers. The gun permit was indeed there, along with…

He turned to the teenager and asked, "What's your relation to Damon Gray?"

"He's my father. Why?" the girl responded, equal parts confused and distraught.

Baxter steeled his face at that answer.

"I'm going to need to verify this," Baxter stated flatly, playing with the file.

"No rush. Take your time," Angela stated in the polite, formal tone of voice one reserves for formal dinners with people you don't actually like.

He grabbed the child by the arm. "Come with me, and Don't. Touch. _Anything_."

Baxter unlocked the door from the lobby to the back and dragged the girl and the woman's gun holster in with him. Then he hit the station's silent lockdown button. The woman wasn't going to go anywhere. Technically, Baxter shouldn't be doing a lot of these things, but he was understaffed and had no one around to tell him otherwise.

Through the teller window the officer could see Angela brush herself off then sit cross-legged in one of the waiting chairs. Her irritating demeanor had been traded for pensiveness as she toyed with her boots.

Baxter didn't trust her. Granted, he didn't trust a lot of people; it was practically a job qualification. He reported in to the chief before looking up ID numbers and making a series of phone calls.

Beyond the gun permit, the file contained a divorce contract. Granted, he wasn't a lawyer, but from what he could tell, it could easily dictate _at least _temporary transfer of Damon's assets given the current situation, and there was _extremely_ short notice orders for child custody and related paperwork.

"For the record, is your name Valerie _Gray_?" he asked without looking up.

"Yes, why? Why are you asking me these things? Why is my dad important? Who is this woman?" Valerie asked almost all at once.

Baxter didn't respond, and instead read the last file over for the fourth time. If you had asked him, he would've suspected at least half of these documents were forgeries, except for the tiny detail that everything checked out.

And _that_ was part of the problem.

A weekend. After hours. You don't get child services, or _any_ branch of the government to work that quick.

_Someone_ had connections.

Lieutenant Baxter stole a glance through the teller window. Angela looked a million miles away, lost in her thoughts. Preoccupied, maybe, or was it a ruse? Either way, he wasn't going to get any farther with this from where he was.

"What is going on? What aren't you telling me?" Valerie asked.

When Baxter made to avoid her again, she slammed her fist on the counter over the file.

"Stop ignoring me. I _demand_ answers," Valerie stated with resolve.

"Ms. Silver, would you mind coming here?" he asked aloud through the hole in the window.

"Legally speaking, you have guardianship over your daughter, Valerie," began Lieutenant Baxter.

Valerie shot him a pointedly vicious glare, but before she could open her mouth, Baxter spoke more forcefully.

"But as a keeper of the peace, I can_not_ in good conscience turn her over to you."

"I understand, officer," Angela replied. "… but does Valerie?"

"None of you are making any sense!" Valerie interrupted. "I don't know this woman. Why are you even considering handing me over to her? Where's my Dad? What happened to him?"

Lieutenant Baxter and Angela Silver exchanged a silent look.

"I'm not really at liberty to say…" began Baxter. Which was, strictly speaking, _true. _The report hadn't even been written yet. Which, again, made Angela's involvement an "Angular Mustache" on the suspicious scale.

"Something… bad happened," supplied Angela. "But that's not the immediate problem."

Baxter continued before Valerie could protest. "Look, I'll give it to you plain. If you don't want to go home with her, you won't have to."

"But," added Angela, "You'd probably be moving to Chicago until this gets sorted out. If you want to stay in Amity Park, you'll have to come home with me."

"I'm _not _going home with _you. _And you are _not_ staying at my home!" Valerie shouted. She ground her foot into the floor in emphasis.

"Tell her," Angela stated flatly. "Tell her how long she'll be in Chicago for."

Baxter stiffened. He was hoping to keep Valerie away from her. Angela caught his expression and gave a frustratingly smug grin. The lieutenant was glad there wasn't a crowbar handy, because he'd be severely tempted to remove her smile with one.

"Truthfully, I don't know," Baxter responded with a voice of cold steel.

"Guess," prompted Angela.

"What are we talking about? A few days? A week? This'll blow over and-" countered Valerie.

"Try months," supplied Angela. "Possibly longer… depending on the courts."

Valerie turned to Lieutenant Baxter, who gave a subtle nod in affirmation.

"How _much_ longer?" Valerie asked cautiously.

Angela took a deep breath before she replied. "How much longer until you turn 18?"

Valerie interrupted. "This is a joke. This is some kind of _sick,_ DISGUSTING joke."

"Now don't say things like that. Child Services doesn't hold kids that long," Baxter argued.

"Child Services. Foster care. Really, without other relatives, it's the same thing in the end to her."

"I want my Dad. Where is he? What happened? Nothing happens until I know where he is."

So they told her.

* * *

Sv wrwm'g tl wldm drgs gsv hsrk, yfg Wznlm Tizb rh hrmprmt jfrxp.

* * *

Sorry for the delay between interludes! Things have been kind of crazy behind the scenes, especially with getting Part 2 ready, since we didn't get as much done over the summer as we would have liked. It may be a bit of a wait until Part 2, but Ava figured they'd at least get the interludes up!


	13. Interlude: Jack and Maddie

_Duality_

_Interlude 4/4_

* * *

Maddie

* * *

"Danny kicked Jack. I couldn't speak, I was so stunned. He's never been one to hurt anything; he's such a softy, though you'd never get him to admit it… which was why I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I would've continued to watch in horror if Jazz hadn't carried me away… But when Danny _screamed _at the top of his lungs, it was-"

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop there. That's more than enough for today."

Maddie looked up from her seat to the psychiatric practitioner. Instead of taking notes, the professionally dressed woman was studying her reflection in a compact. It didn't strike Maddie as being particularly appropriate in a work environment. Amity Medical wasn't known for hiring the best, only those who would accept a meager paycheck that wasn't expected to grow significantly. As the saying goes, 'you get what you pay for,' as the more competent staff moved on to more profitable and less dead-end opportunities as the years went by.

"_Technically_," the doctor hesitated, "I have to report this to the authorities."

Maddie froze. "No. No you_ don't_. Doctor-Patient confidentiality. That's a violation and you risk your license if you-"

The doctor interrupted her with an upward palm. The compact snapped shut with a satisfying click as she spoke.

"There are exceptions, however few, to that rule. At _minimum_ we're dealing with an attempted second-degree murder, if your story is to be believed, and that's not even accounting what he did to your son. Your lives, and possibly others, are in jeopardy, and it would be professionally irresponsible if I did not report this."

"I assure you that _wasn't_ actually Jack. My husband would never do those things. He was possessed," Maddie insisted.

Internally, Maddie was horrified. She mentally kicked herself. She should've know better than to share this with someone who couldn't possibly understand all the factors at play.

The doctor frowned. Though it was Maddie's imagination, she could've sworn she saw her lip curl up ever so slightly.

"Possessed, you say? That's some heavy denial right there, and certainly not the first time I've heard that excu-"

"Ma'am. I am a paranormal scientist. I know what I witnessed," Maddie replied. "That was _not _Jack."

The doctor rolled her eyes before responding, "Well, unfortunately, I don't have your credentials in that very established and accepted field. Let me ask you this then: 'Could Jack endanger you and-slash-or your family like that again?'"

Maddie was getting irritated and it crept into her voice, "I keep telling you, Jack would nev-"

"I didn't ask if he _would_. I asked if he _could._ Is it conceivable that your husband _could_ return to behavior like…" the doctor paused to look at her watch before continuing, "like he exhibited in the past five or so hours?"

Maddie went still. When the ghost released Jack, she had grabbed one of the ecto-guns intended to demonstrate to the investor from the bag which lay half-forgotten near where she and Jazz took shelter, but…

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

In a fit of unbridled rage like a cornered, injured animal, the vampire-like ghost prepared an ecto-blast to incinerate the still body of the teen boy. His aim, however, was interrupted by another weapon's discharge that nearly cleaved him in two.

Maddie's ecto-gun whined in preparation for another shot.

"This isn't over, _mark my words!_" the ghost announced while straining to contain his continued agony. In a cloud of spiraling pink smoke, the ghost retreated. The second lethal blast from Maddie's weapon only managed to harmlessly push the residual gas away.

* * *

**Duality**

* * *

"Well… no. I can't say I can guarantee that it _could_ not," Maddie confessed.

"Can you offer me any honest assurances that you could realistically _prevent_ it from happening?" the doctor continued without skipping a beat.

Maddie considered this. FentonWorks, the Ops Center, and the Ghost Assault Vehicle were all equipped with ghost shields. So long as the ghost stayed outside, and the humans stayed inside, it could easily prevent overshadowing.

However, even ignoring the ridiculous idea that they lock themselves inside them for the rest of their lives, the fact was that the generators were unwieldy and drew an unsustainable amount of power. The two mobile options could only keep a shield up for the better part of a day. FentonWorks, while it had not undergone an endurance test due to the demands, could theoretically hold out a week, maybe a week and a half if the Ops Center was still attached. They were built with the intent to stave out an attack, not to act as a nuclear winter shelter.

Considering how dangerous ghosts had just proven themselves to be, maybe a renewed effort in that direction would be prudent.

The doctor cleared her throat, stirring Maddie from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry… what was the question?" Maddie asked.

"I asked, 'Could you realistically prevent another episode like last night from ever happening again?'," she repeated.

Maddie sighed, "Not as things currently stand. No."

The woman stood up from her desk and paced with her arms behind her back as she spoke, "So you're expecting me to believe, that your husband would never do anything of the sort… except that he realistically could and you have no method of dealing with it."

"_Anyone_ could-" Maddie interrupted. The ghost was loose, it could possess Jack again, true. But it could alternatively possess anyone else.

_It could possess anyone else… _

Maddie shuddered as the weight of that last thought dawned on her. Not only could Jack get possessed, but the cashier at the grocery store, the doctor standing in front of her, her children, even herself. Worse, there'd be no way to tell. Irrational distrust did not sit well with her. Except… just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone's _not_ out to get you.

_Maybe add a ghost scanner to that list of things to prioritize._

She clutched her hand to her forehead in frustration. She was getting overly suspicious without due cause. Agreeing to speak with the psychiatrist was a complete mistake, she could see that now.

"Mmmm," the doctor purred, "You see the folly in what you're saying now, don't you? You're locked into disassociating the danger with your husband. It's alright, dear. You're not the only one with a denial issue. I've seen a lot of cases like this in the sixty years I've been in practice."

It was all Maddie could do not to stomp her foot in reply, "Doctor. I am _not_ in de-… wait… sixty years?"

The sharply dressed psychiatrist looked to be in her early to mid-twenties, _possibly_ even late teens, certainly nothing that betrayed she'd be closer to Maddie's age, much less a senior citizen.

"Denying being in denial, dear? But as for your question, what can I say? There are certainly a lot of benefits to working here." She tipped her sunglasses down slightly before continuing, "If you know what I mean."

"I… see," replied Maddie, who did actually not see.

"Anyways, how about we do this, as a compromise," the doctor began. "Yes, it is my responsibility to report this, but there's certainly a lot more paperwork involved than if you do so willingly. How about I _neglect_ to file my report if you agree to another session. Does next Tuesday morning work for you?"

"No, I do _not_ agree to this," Maddie countered. "This is blackmail."

The doctor raised an eyebrow as she replied, "I hardly see how. If word got out that I didn't file this post-haste, I could lose my license. I could just file it anyways, but I don't think you'd appreciate that course of events. This way we have a better shot at coming at this rationally."

Maddie crossed her arms before replying.

"And how, pray tell, can we come to a _rational_ conclusion if I'm right about it being ghosts, which you admittedly know nothing of."

The psychiatrist smirked, then replied, "Well, then I assume you'll just have to convince me. You're a ghost-hunting scientist, right? I assume you have captured one?"

"Well… not as such… but Jack has completed a thermos that would theoretically-"

"I'm not asking about the theoretical. Surely you've happened across ghosts other than the one you claim to have attacked you. Show me a ghost, and _maybe _I'll change my stance on the issue. Otherwise, I'll have to dismiss your argument as balderdash and possibly write you down as delusional."

This psychiatrist was _really_ starting to tick Maddie off.

"My life's work is _not_ the product of delusion," she fumed.

"Then it should be easy enough for you shouldn't it?" The doctor reset her sunglasses before continuing, "After all, you are a _professional… _But in any case, our time is up and I've been working through dinner speaking to you. Oh! One final thing you should think about before we meet: Divorce. Even if I can't persuade you to turn him in, it would provide you and your children an excuse to get away from that monster in the interim."

"_That moron did all that because you were going to divorce him. If you ask me you shouldn't have waited past your honeymoon. Good riddance, I say," spat Alicia._

But before Maddie could protest, the doctor pressed a button on her desk.

"Mr. Bertrand? Would you be so kind as to see Mrs. Fenton back to her room, please?"

Almost immediately, a short man with grey hair in a nurse's uniform entered.

"Do you need assistance getting up?" he asked.

"No, I don't believe so," Maddie replied to Bertrand, but she never broke eye contact with the psychiatrist.

The doctor returned her glare with a winning smile.

Maddie got up. Her ribs protested and sharp pain shot through her side. She steadied herself before she left the room under Bertrand's escort.

How _dare_ that woman? How _dare_ she make a mockery of her life's work? She loved Jack. She could never betray him like that. He was a victim in all this. A divorce was out of the question, and she would do _everything_ in her power to avoid that. Not again. Never again.

The real villain was that ghost. It used Jack's identity and tried to corrupt her thoughts of him even as it actively tried to kill her.

That ghost had better hope that it never came after the Fentons again. Because if it did, and tried to make a puppet show of her or her family, she would teach it or any other of its kind that there were fates worse than death.

They went around the corner and through the waiting room. Jack was seated uncomfortably in a wheelchair. He spotted her, and immediately broke eye contact by grabbing a pamphlet off the stand to the side, grimacing as the stitches in his arm tugged at his skin.

It hurt that he didn't feel he could face her, but worse was guilt that she shuddered at the sight of her husband. _It wasn't him_, she had to remind herself.

Unfortunately, the conscious and subconscious don't always see eye to eye on such things.

* * *

Jack

* * *

Jack Fenton didn't think it was possible to feel worse than he already had when he had entered the practicing psychiatrist's office, but that was certainly the case.

"Oh, I did enjoy our time together, Mr. Fenton. With just a few more sessions I'm sure we'll make some excellent progress," she said as she swung her fist in encouragement. "Take care now! And do dwell on some of those hurtful awful things your son said before next time; we can make that the focus of our next meeting. Toodle-oo!"

When the red-clad psychiatrist mentioned Danny, Jack's heart somehow sank further than it already had. The shrink, Dr. Spectra, he thought she said her name was, busied herself by inspecting herself in her compact with a pleased expression as a nurse wheeled him back to the waiting room.

Jack fidgeted the whole trip, or at least, he fidgeted as much as he could. A wheelchair, a leg and arm cast, and who knows how many stitches and bandages didn't leave him with much mobility.

He really didn't want to think about what the medical bill would turn out to be.

He really didn't want to think, period.

Learning he'd been taken over by some ghost was an embarrassment, learning it second-hand was terrifying, but learning he'd tried to kill his family… that was… oh god.

Jack _really_ didn't want to think.

His nose itched, and the IV under his good arm agitated the skin around it whenever he moved it.

But somehow, knowing he'd tried to kill his family wasn't the worst of it. It was not being able to remember doing it that was the worst. He didn't know what he had done. He didn't know how he got to the warehouse. All he could do was nod as Dr. Spectra recited from Maddie's account of what happened, but every new thread of info gave Jack more doubts and questions.

Did Maddie hold back in her story?

Did he actually do those things?

How?

What did he do that Maddie wasn't privy to?

What could his family possibly think of him now?

Well… Jack knew exactly what he felt of himself: weak, pathetic, inadequate. He fancied himself a ghost hunter, but a ghost managed to use him to hunt his family. How did _that_ sound on a resume?

Jack gave into temptation and made to rub his nose. The needle in his arm contorted his vein in the process. He put his arm back on the armrest with his nose still itching.

Jack was afraid. He'd been violated in the worst, most personal way he could ever imagine. Granted, he knew that in his right mind he'd never _ever_ even consider doing those things.

But he hadn't been in his mind in the first place, had he?

He also couldn't promise he'd never do those things again. That ghost had never been captured or destroyed.

But somehow… somehow Danny managed to chase it off. Maddie didn't manage to hear most of what was said, according what she said she was willing to share with Dr. Spectra and himself, at least, but the gist was that he shouted horrible yet true things about himself.

His son hated him.

He came close to murdering his wife.

And who knows how Jazz felt about him.

Maybe… maybe if things didn't show signs of improving, it'd be best if he just left.

But… would that be better? The ghost could come back and possess someone else instead and try to kill again.

If he could take the concepts behind Fenton Works' ghost shield and rebuild them on a smaller scale, he could build some kind of wearable defense against ghosts, and with some considerable, but certainly feasible, tweaking, he could turn that personal shield into a defensive weapon. Instead of a solid barrier against ghosts, it could fry their ectoplasmic forms. Power management would, of course, be an issue, but that would be something to iron out when he had access to his drafting board.

But Jack was certain, come or go, he would do everything in his power to make sure no one in his family ever got possessed again.

* * *

Wiznzgrx rilmb: yvxzfhv dv olev gl hvv blf rm kzrm

* * *

This is the last of the interludes! Figured it's better to have them up than not to.

Part 2 may be coming with significant delays, but it will be out . . . eventually. Things behind the scenes are crazy and we'd like to rebuild a buffer of completed chapters so we can have a regular update schedule when it does come, and we'll be working on that over Christmas break. Your patience is greatly appreciated, thanks for staying with this story! We're just getting started, and hope you'll like the direction this is going.


End file.
